The Nikkah
by Chronic Potterphile
Summary: Dean and Cas decide to fake an engagement and a romance to trick some djinns, only to discover their true feelings for each other. Also featuring: Sam with a djinn-induced toothache, some fluff and then some more, kisses, hugs, tears, and, like any great romance, Dean attempting to search a strange country for the love of his life.
1. The Engagement

Before I begin, I'd like to say that this fic is **canon divergent after "Scoobynatural."**

Hoo boy, am I glad to finally post this. Welcome to my first romcom fic ever! I'm super nervous right now!

All the credit for making this readable goes to **Allison/DarcyDelaney** , my wonderful beta, and my wifeys, **Naila/remyareyousrs** , and **Sanjy/SPNxBookworm** for helping me tremendously through the proofreading (read: they proofread it for me while I panicked at work).

 **Usarechan** , with the wonderful art, managed to keep me ever smiling. Go have a look, you guys! And please leave comments and praises on these posts (please replace "dot" with... well, the actual dot haha:

usarechandottumblrdotcom/post/180364925839/first-entry-for-winchesterpooja-the-nikkah-cas

usarechandottumblrdotcom/post/180365920029/second-entry-for-winchesterpooja-the-nikkah

 **Ellen/Lennelle** has been the best cheerleader ever, even though I've been lurky for six months now.

Last, but not the least, I'd like to thank **Muse and Jojo** for hosting this every year and giving me a chance to write these idiots in love again!

I hope y'all enjoy this fic. It's super happy and light, and I didn't even give Sam as much grief as I usually do. I had this idea after seeing that Cas accidentally married a djinn on Scoobynatural. A Nikkah is a Muslim marriage, and this story is about... let's say, the aftermath of Cas's nikkah with a djinn. This story was so much fun to write, even though the humour bits were really hard, but I hope all of you dig it.

* * *

 **One: The Engagement**

"Round that corner, come on, come on!"

They skid on the marble floors as they run together, shoes scuffing and slipping urgently against the smooth tiles and threatening to drop both of them into a pile on the floor. They've faced many dangers before, starting with the Devil, to demons to Amara and God and yet, somehow, nothing seems as threatening as what they're running from right now.

Dean glances to his side, at Cas, and he only needs a split second before he's got an idea. A crazy, whacky idea, but an idea that could potentially save both of them.

"Cas," he whispers, gulping a lungful of air and Cas, bless him, turns, trenchcoat billowing behind him. Dean doesn't talk again—he lurches sideways to grab Cas's hand. "Come on."

"Dean… what—?"

"I have…" Dean huffs, "a plan… but—" He cuts himself off to see their attackers right behind them, at their heels. "Shit, _shitshitshitshitshit_ …"

"Swearing isn't going to help," Cas points out, as if _that_ is going to help. _Jesus_. This dude.

They round a final corner— _fuck Dean's pool winnings and their decision to stay in this fucking cushy hotel_ —and there it is, a beacon in the darkness…their only escape from this mess.

Their room.

"Come on." Dean pulls Cas inside, and Cas's hand is warm and firm in his, but he tries not to think of that. Once they're both inside they slam the door shut behind them, ignoring a moan of protest from a very drugged-up Sam lying in Dean's bed.

"Now what?" Cas asks Dean, as Dean bends over and catches his breath. He can hear the footsteps racing down the hall and they're coming… _fuck_ , they're coming.

"Dude…" Dean looks up at Cas, a hand on his aching side. "You can't go…back to Syria, okay? I won't let you. Plus, we need you here."

"I know that, Dean," Cas hisses, agitated. The footsteps stop. There is a giant _thud_ at their door. "You said you have an idea."

"Yeah, and—" Another _thud_. Dean glances at the door.

"And?" Cas pushes on.

"You have to go with me here, man. This is a fucking weird plan, okay?"

"Just say it, Dean! Tell me what I must do!"

 _Thud_.

"Okay," Dean says. "Okay." He rushes to his duffel and slides a hand into one of the side-pockets. The thing he's looking for—he'd stopped wearing it long ago but it must be here… it must be _somewhere_ … he had taken it out just a few weeks ago when he'd thought of Mom and Jack in that horrible little world—

"AHA!"

"Dean?" Cas calls out.

 _Thud_.

Dean closes the little trinket in his palm, rushes to Cas, and stares at the door, which is almost off its hinges. Any minute now…

 _Thud_.

The door crashes open in a pile of dust and debris and Dean gets to the floor.

"Dean! What are you doing?"

"S-Something I should have done a while back." The reply doesn't sound as heartfelt as Dean had hoped it would, but he doesn't care anymore. He grits his teeth, doesn't look at the invaders. He knows this is quick and sudden and weird but this isn't the worst thing he's done, even if it's not in his top ten favourite moments.

From the look on Cas's face, Dean also knows that this is maybe going a bit too far, but really, he can't think of another solution now. There's this, or there's losing Cas forever, and _fuck_ if he's going to let that happen.

"Cas," he whispers, and Cas, in his shocked and alarmed state of mind is frozen in his place, brow shining with sweat and eyes wide with surprise.

For Dean is down on one knee, holding out his old silver ring in one hand.

He clears his throat.

"Castiel."

"Yes, Dean," Cas replies, and thank God, he seems to have caught on.

There is a beat of silence, only to be broken by a loud snore from Sam. Dean ignores his brother and gathers himself to say the next few words.

"I love you, Castiel, will you marry me?"

He's pretty sure he imagines the tears in Cas's eyes, when his friend nods his head. "Yes. Yes, Dean, I will marry you."

 **~o~**

 ** _Then_**

They had been resting in the Dean Cave—just the two of them, Dean and Cas—catching up on _Star Wars_ on a new TV and sharing a few beers. Sam was busy nerding out in the library, enjoying his stupid research or whatever, and it was at Dean's second bottle when his brother finally decided to show his face, claiming he'd found a case down in Dallas.

"Killer dentist, I think," he said, and Dean paused the movie right as Obi-Wan disappeared with his robes down on the floor in a heap. Sam took a moment to glance at the screen and continued. "The police can't find any evidence that the guy killed his patients, but every single person who's been to him in the last few days has died."

Dean ran a finger over the cool, sweaty glass of his bottle. "How do you know he's not just…you know. Shitty?"

Sam shrugged. "He could be. But _every_ single patient? Come on, Dean, you gotta admit it's kinda odd."

"Hey, did you check if he flunked out of dental school?"

Sam's nostrils flared. "Dean. I know what I'm talking about. This is _bizarre_. The kind of stuff we definitely need to check out."

And, okay, it _was_ their level of weird. Which was why Dean packed his bags to go. Cas offered to accompany them and help. They had no idea about the location of the Seal of Solomon yet so there wasn't much for Cas to do back here right now and Dean could understand that the dude would be bored sitting about alone in the bunker. Plus, whether they needed it or not, Sam would pack a few of those giant books in his duffel and bully Dean into helping with research, so they did not need a guy back home doing it for them.

They set off to Dallas with Sam catching up on research in the passenger seat. Cas helped him, and Dean had his own bit of fun letting Baby take on open blacktop and the beautiful countryside with Zeppelin playing in the background. He drove quickly and (in his view), efficiently, getting them to Dallas in record time with a lot of daylight to spare. This time, for once, they decided to invest in a nice hotel with marble floors and big rooms, because, God knows, after all the adventures the three of them had had of late, they deserved a nice hotel room.

 **~o~**

 ** _Now_**

"You did _what_?!"

"We're engaged, okay?" Dean says, exasperated, as Sam, half-swollen face and all, stares at him from across the hotel room from his stupid bed. The dude just woke up five minutes ago from his loopy slumber and he's already giving Dean a hard fucking time.

Cas is out speaking with the djinns. He's talking to them about his and Dean's situation, and Dean is glad he doesn't have to be there when Cas is doing it.

"For real?" Sam asks, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles, as though he's unable to process what Dean said.

"It's fake, obviously, but Cas is out talking with the djinns and he's… explaining."

"Explaining what?"

"That our engagement is real—to them, of course, and that, um—" Dean stops, not sure that he can go on from there. He wrings his palms together, unsure of what he's nervous about, but this whole thing is so damn dicey, he thinks he has a right to be nervous. He strains to listen for returning footsteps, for any sign that Cas is back, or for something that could give him an excuse to not tell Sam. He's not in the mood to be picked on by his stupid little brother right now.

"Dean," Sam says again, "you know I'll just ask Cas when he walks in, right?" A grin is forming on his face and a dimple appears, and Dean presses his lips together.

This is not cool.

"He wants… well, since he married the queen," Dean shrugs, "he's, uh, kinda trying to explain that it was a mistake and… he married her out of desperation—to help me, and we're… um, the two of us are not faking."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "So tell me this—he couldn't be desperate to help you because you're _friends_?"

"I don't know, man, if he needs a divorce from the queen, platonic love ain't cutting it."

"And you think they'll believe that?"

"They've gotta."

"Well, _I'm_ not even believing it, Dean."

Dean frowns at his brother. "I told you it's fake just now, of course you ain't gonna believe it."

"No, not like…" Sam blows off a strand of hair that's hanging over his nose, "like, I know you two are like. Nine years!" He waves his hand about, indignant and huffy, and Dean has to roll his eyes.

"Get some sleep, dude."

"I just slept."

"Apparently that was not enough." Dean lifts himself from the bed and goes over to Sam, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Down you go, Sasquatch. Come on."

Sam resists him for a moment and looks up at him, his stupid thirty-four year-old face somehow seeming way younger. "Dean."

"Yeah, Sammy."

Sam stares at him from down there for another two minutes, puppy-dog eyes on full blast and nostrils flaring for a moment there, before he's crumbling—into fucking giggles. "FUCK!" he near-about roars, hugging himself as he bends over, and Dean wants to punch him.

"What the _fuck_ , Sam?!" he says, stepping back. "Go to sleep, you moron!"

Sam snorts, curls into himself further. There's hair in his mouth— _Jesus_ , _he is_ so _high_.

"Stop fucking giggling," Dean repeats, to no avail. Sam is tomato-red now, and Dean is worried he's going to have an aneurysm from laughing.

"Fuck!" Sam repeats, cleaving through Dean's thoughts.

" _Dude_."

" _Fuuuuuck_! Fuck, fuck—" There are tears streaming down Sam's ruddy face now, large crinkles fanning out of the corner of his eyes. There are giggles, chuckles, and wheezes—the whole nine—coming out of Sam in an array of funny noises and sounds. He's obviously still very loopy from the meds, and really, what is so damn funny? It sure as hell is _not_ funny to Dean, nor is it (hopefully) to Cas or the djinns.

Sam keeps laughing and Dean is in no mood to deal with whatever this is, so he tries to ignore his extremely amused brother as he goes to dig about in his duffel for his iPod. He needs a fucking break from this crap and some good music is just what will help him right now.

Sam wheezes, and there's another _fuck_ , more giggling. He uncurls himself, coughing a little as he makes his way to the bathroom. The tap at the sink turns on, the soothing sound of gushing water suppressing some of Sam's chortles.

Dean rolls his eyes again. _Idiot_. He finds his iPod, pulls off his shoes and climbs into bed, plugging in his headphones, when Sam comes out of the bathroom with his face dripping wet and his hair askew. He runs a hand over that Rapunzel-ass bird's nest of his and it's suddenly all better and Dean fucking hates his brother for all that stupid hair.

"Stop being jealous of my hair," says Sam, as if he's read Dean's mind. He sits down on his bed with a grunt and buries his face in his hands, suddenly seeming a lot less happy than he was two minutes ago. Dean reaches his AC/DC playlist and is about to hit shuffle but Sam's loud groan from the other side gets him to pause in his actions.

" _What_ , Sammy?"

"M' fucking face hurts," Sam replies, voice low and cranky.

"We're all getting screwed over in this stupid case," Dean says, "deal with it. At least they didn't zap you into some djinn world like they did me the last three times."

" _You_ fucking deal with it," Sam growls. "You're engaged to Cas. Plus, lore says that djinns can give you some very bad toothaches apart from the dream thing. Thought you knew."

"Do I look like I'm the nerd in this room? And my being engaged to Cas makes it better _how_? Do _you_ want to be engaged to Cas, since you think this is so fucking easy?"

"I mean, if it was that or this toothache—"

"No." Dean feels heat rush up to his cheeks. "You're – you're not—" He waggled a finger at Sam, "I won't let you!"

Sam looks up, eyebrows going up and forehead wrinkling in what Dean deciphers as incredulousness. "Dean," he says, "are you _jealous_?"

"No! I'm not! Shut up—"

"Dude," Sam folds his arms, "you're thick. I'm not doing anything, okay? He's just a friend to me. Like a brother. Are we cool?"

"I'm not jealous, Sam, will you fucking go back to sleep?"

"Really?" Sam asks him. "Not jealous? Do you even hear yourself right now?"

Dean can't take much more of his little brother's whining… or whatever this is. Okay, agreed, having to get your tooth removed is probably pretty bad, and a fake engagement is actually better than that shit, but Sam's taking on a different tone here that Dean's supposed to presumably understand.

He doesn't understand.

Sam huffs and lies down on his bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. "I thought _I'm_ the one who's been drugged."

"And you are."

An eye peeks out from under the arm and Sam watches Dean for a minute.

A whole goddamned minute, before he once again bursts into peals of laughter.

 **~o~**

 ** _Then_**

Dr. Dave Atkins seemed well-meaning and not at all like the type of monster that they expected him to be from all the deaths that were happening at his clinic. In fact, he was a regular dude—a human being who still had no clue why his patients were dying. A search of his office after he'd left was clean. No hex bags, no demonic shit, nothing. A search of his home was clean, too, and they'd covered every nook and cranny in there.

They even interviewed the hygienist and the dental assistants who worked with him, searched their houses and tried to find out if he had enemies, but noting came up. Atkins was living a normal life (up until now) doing his job the way it had to be done. His co-workers all agreed that the procedures his patients came in for were not particularly life-threatening, or something Atkins himself couldn't have handled.

It didn't make sense—nothing made sense until they paid a visit to Atkins's father, who lived in the old folks' home downtown. Mind and judgement clouded by Alzheimer's, Mr. Atkins had not said much, but the two coherent sentences he uttered at the end of interview brought everything into perspective.

"It was the djinns!" he said, waving a shaky towards the wall, as if they were around there. "Enid told me it would help Dave's failing practice but they don't help at all!"

That day as they headed to the car, Cas said something that Dean had almost never heard him say in the nine years of knowing him.

"Fuck."

"What?" Dean asked him, dreading the answer already.

"I'm married to Queen Aaliyah. Their queen. That deal was made after I killed a whole horde of them."

"So?"

"So," Cas rubbed a palm against his forehead, "you do understand I, and by extension, my friends, who consist of you and Sam, cannot harm any more of them unless we want the entire djinn community's wrath upon us?"

"Who's harming them?" Dean asked him. "We'll just stop them. No killing."

"Do you guarantee that?"

"… No." Dean paused in his thoughts and considered everything Cas had just said, making sense of it. He understood now, why Cas was so worked up.

He sighed. "Ah, fuck."

 **~o~**

 ** _Now_**

"This is a lie. This is all a lie."

"Frank—"

"This is a darn lie, Cindy, and I know it."

Cas stares at the djinns, Frank and Cindy, and is thankful they cannot read his mind for this is all, indeed, a lie. It started with one, and it is twisting into a bigger lie right now.

He swallows. "I will divorce your queen shortly. She knows about the deal, and if she doesn't—"

"But…" Frank struggles, eyes showing disgust and disbelief. " _Him_? For _him_? That lumberjack?"

"He is a very good man and I would appreciate you not insulting him in this way," Cas replies, without missing a beat. "I do… I _do_ love him. I am sorry. I should have told Malika Aaliyah as well."

Silence stretches between them and it seems to last forever. Frank opens and closes his mouth a few times but seems unable to speak up. Finally, he says, "We can't let you off like this. You have betrayed our queen—and us, and…"

Cas nods. "I understand there are going to be consequences. But…" He closes his fist, feeling the ring on his finger. "Leave my fiancé out of this."

 _Fiancé_. The word sounds odd rolling off his tongue. Like something he'd never even considered. He's been married before and he's married again. Is it even legal to be someone's fiancé right now? All he knows is, he's doing it because this is the only way to get out of the marriage with the queen. By being Dean's fiancé.

Frank crosses his arms and Cindy pushes her hands into her pockets and Cas knows they're considering what he just said. After another minute or so, Cindy speaks again.

"You get a week," she says. Frank turns to her and she waves at him to be silent. "You will get a week to prove to us that this is not a fake-out. We will be watching every move of yours. Every. Move."

She narrows her eyes, strands of hair falling to her temples. A car honks somewhere and music blasts from the bar at the next street and people move on with their lives but Cas stays there, looking at yet another deal he's about to make.

He thinks of Sam, asleep in that room, and Dean, who's relying on him to make this better, and he nods. "All right. But you have to give us our privacy." He needs to talk to Sam and Dean without the djinns always spying on them and right now, this is the only way to get it.

"You can have that," Cindy says. She smirks. "We're not perverts."

"No, no, I—" Cas stops there, just on the brink of sabotaging himself, then thinks properly about what Cindy just said.

"Yes," he agrees. "When Dean and I engage in sexual intercourse, you may not spy on us. Or… even if – if we kiss."

"We'll give you five minutes after to become decent. Longer if it's more than a kiss."

Cas wants to argue for more but he feels like he has already crossed his limit, so he agrees. "Okay," he says, "for the next one week, Dean and I will prove to you that we are indeed in love."

"Bring it, Cowboy," says Cindy. "It's a deal."

"Yes. It's a deal."

 **~o~**

 ** _Then_**

It did not take much for them to locate the djinns or their lair. In fact, it was painfully obvious when some more research led them to a café that the djinns regularly visited. Dean accompanied Sam and Cas there for a visit, weapons at the ready, but the djinns seemed pretty non-threatening. The barista even smiled at Cas's order for a tall glass of black coffee with no sugar.

"I would be glad, Ameer," he said, writing Cas's name down on the cup when he'd taken the order. "Give our regards to Malika Aaliyah."

Cas stiffened. "How did you hear of that," he started, glancing at the man's name tag, "Frank?"

" _Of course_ we heard of your marriage to our Malika." The djinn looked all too happy about it, smile wider than the first one. "We are very glad to welcome an angel into our family. Congratulations."

Cas seemed uncomfortable, crinkles appearing between his eyebrows as he turned to Sam and Dean. "Yes. In Syria…"

"We would love to visit with you, when you go back to the queen," Frank replied. Dean moved forward to place his order and he seemed least interested in talking to Dean, which, _Jesus_ , horrible customer service or what?

Cas cleared his throat. "Frank… I hate to say this, but—"

Dean immediately realised what Cas was about to tell the guy and he turned to Cas. "Dude, dude, maybe you should talk to Frank about this… after…?" He tried to hint at Cas that this was a bad idea, he really did, but damn if Cas wasn't the worst at taking hints.

He pushed Dean away instead. "I can't keep explaining my situation with the queen. They deserve to know the truth, Dean, so let me tell him."

"Tell us what?" Frank asked him, and a few more of the staff—other djinns, by the look of it, accumulated around him. Thank _God_ that Sam, Dean, and Cas were the only ones here to see the drama but it was getting painfully obvious that they were outnumbered by the djinns.

"Yeah, tell us what?" the djinn standing behind Frank repeated.

"The marriage was a deal. I needed the fruits from the Tree of Life and…" Cas stopped there, hoping the situation would explain itself from there.

It did.

There was silence. Silence that Dean couldn't have smashed with a brick.

He could feel it spiralling right from there.

Frank held his own. "So. Your marriage to our queen was… a betrayal? After you killed so many of our friends, this is what you did? Betrayed the queen?"

"No, it's a deal," Cas said, and when Dean kicked his ankle—

"Dean, that is unnecessary and quite painful."

"Dude, shut up," Dean said under his breath, leaning close to Cas's ear. "Take your damn coffee, and let's get the fuck out of here and figure out another way to this."

"I am telling them the truth," said Cas, like the pigheaded bastard that he was. "Frank, I am not in love with your queen, I will not be coming to Syria, and this was just a business deal. As for what I did to your colleagues, I hope you understand, but it was a part of the fight, and it was important for me to get those fruits. I was hoping Queen Aaliyah knew of this, as my intentions were clear when I made the deal, but I will travel myself to confirm."

"Confirm, huh?" the djinn who stood behind Frank asked. "Cindy," she said, giving her hand for Cas to shake. "You think you can control everything?"

"I cannot control anything," said Cas, "except for the deals I make, and I thought that was evident."

Cindy leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. "Well then, I hope what we feel about the fact that you killed so many of us, as well as your so-called deal with Malika Aaliyah is clear, too, dear Ameer." Her eyes roved over to Dean, then Sam, as if she were searching for something, and a moment later, she smirked.

"Good luck, boys."

It took a few seconds, maybe more, and Dean was about to laugh, about to be stupid about this, when it happened.

"Aargh!"

It was Sam. Dean and Cas turned to see Sam curl in on himself, hand cupping his right cheek.

"Sammy!" Dean called out, going to his brother, hand on his shoulder as Cas stayed between him and the djinns. "What happened?!"

Sam looked up, agony in his eyes, glare directed at Cindy.

"It's my fucking tooth," he said. "She did something to my tooth!"

 **~o~**

 ** _Now_**

Cas is a little relieved, a little distressed when he gets back into the room. Dean pauses _Back in Black_ and takes off his headphones and watches his friend shut the door behind him. He makes room on his bed so Cas can come and sit next to him, and Cas does just that.

Dean takes a look at Cas's tired eyes and slumped posture as he leans back against the headboard, arms crossed. "So?"

"I have to divorce the queen," Cas says, like this is some boring soap opera they're talking about, and not Cas's actual fucking life. The dude can be ambivalent about the weirdest of shit. Okay, he _is_ kinda bothered by what's happening but clearly not as bothered as any normal person would be.

Then again, Cas is not technically a person.

Dean continues to stare at Cas. "And that's it?"

"Yes, I have to speak to her and divorce her, and it's over."

"And we can put all of this behind? The…?" Dean looks over at the silver ring adorning Cas's finger, unable to get himself to say "engagement." What an absolute clusterfuck.

"Yes."

Sam punctuates the mood of the situation with a particularly loud snore and Dean lets out a whispery breath at the same time. "What's the catch? There's always a catch."

"There is no catch," says Cas. "We only need to prove to them that you and I are really engaged."

"What, that big-ass ring on your finger isn't convincing enough for them?" Dean nods at Cas's hand.

"The engagement could still be feigned," Cas says. "They did just see you propose ten minutes ago, while we were being chased, Dean, and until then we seemed like no more than friends to them. It is fair that they want us to prove our love to them."

"What?! Cas, you _know_ this is fake— _mmfgh_ …" Dean is cut off when Cas kisses him, sudden and unexpected, and he blinks, unable to react, when Cas pulls away.

Cas holds Dean's hand and stays close, bringing his mouth to Dean's ear.

"They are watching us," he murmurs, breath warm against Dean's skin. "I'm sorry, I should have asked for your consent before kissing you, but that is the only way to keep us hidden from the surveillance. They said they will watch us for a week and we have to convince them that we are indeed in love—so that will prove the engagement is real. This is the only way we get to be private, they agreed to give us five minutes alone whenever we're kissing and more when we are… being intimate."

Dean shudders at that word, and Cas takes in a breath. "Do I have consent to kiss you or hold your hand in an imitation of intimacy when we need to speak about anything of import?" he asks. "You have my consent too, and I will try not to make it uncomfortable."

 _Too late_ , Dean thinks. Blood rushes up his cheeks… and it's all too warm and suffocating. There seems to be a frog in his throat and Cas, still very close to him, stays like that, like it's perfectly normal. Dean wants to push him away but he also… he doesn't wanna do that. Not now.

He swallows. "Of course you have my consent, Cas. And, um… what do we do when… you know, we need more than five minutes to talk without them listening in?"

Cas moves, then his lips are on Dean's again. The kiss is swift and when he pulls away, Dean has to bite his lip to keep from grunting. Cas's eyes go down to look at his own lap, as if he is a little shy. "I'm sorry, Dean," he says, a little hoarse, "but we have to keep doing this to buy us more time alone."

Sam snores again and Dean fidgets with Cas's hand in his. "There's no other way to end this, is there?"

"No."

"All right, then. Guess we're gettin' lovey-dovey," Dean says, shaking his head. "Fucking stupid situations that we get into sometimes…"

It's going to be a long-ass week and boy, Dean sure isn't looking forward to any of it.

 **~o~**

 ** _Then_**

Dean sat at the dentist's office with Cas by his side. Sam was in the chair now, getting his tooth looked at, as the doctor bent over him with his instruments. This guy was different from Atkins, and not anywhere close to being related to djinns, as Dean had made sure, but Sam was in a lot of pain and they'd had to come here as soon as they could. The doctor took a few X-rays first, then took a good look at Sam's teeth.

"Your wisdom tooth is in very bad condition," the doctor said, voice slightly muffled by his mask, as he held a mirror to Sam's teeth. "Are you sure the pain wasn't there earlier? This kind of damage takes a while."

Sam obviously couldn't answer with the mirror and probe in his mouth, so Dean obliged. "He's been talking about pain for a few days now, Doc. It got really bad today."

"Didn't you think to get it checked before?"

"No, no, my little brother can be a little negligent," Dean replied, catching Sam's eye and earning a bitchface from him. "He's scared of dentists, too."

Unbeknownst to the doctor, Sam gave Dean the finger, and Dean turned away, trying not to laugh.

"Anyway," said the doctor, putting down the instruments and moving back, "I need to get that tooth out, at the very least. You'll need a couple of check-ups after to make sure there isn't any infection. This is a little complicated."

Sam seemed mildly terrified in his seat, the light from the overhead lamp falling sharply on the edges of his cheekbones. Dean could see the sheen of sweat that was building on his forehead.

"O-Okay," said Sam, "right now?"

"Since you're experiencing so much pain, I would suggest getting it done now but if not, you need to do it this week."

Sam looked at Dean, as if asking for help, and Dean felt his heart sink. As funny as this situation was, Sammy in pain was never a nice thing to witness. He cleared his throat. "Go for it, man. Cas and I are there to take you back right now. Let's just get this over with."

Sam swallowed, paling further, took a deep breath, and nodded. "All right… we'll… we'll get it done now."

 **0**

Sam was so out of it after his dental procedure that Dean was glad to have Cas around to help him haul Sam's gigantic ass into the car and drive him back. Sam slept the whole way, drooling a string of bloody saliva onto Dean's upholstery, limbs as steady as overboiled spaghetti when they tried to take him back.

The hotel offered a wheelchair to get him into the room and for the first time that day, Dean was glad he chose to spend some extra money.

They got Sam settled in bed, ignoring his incoherent muttering, and Dean went to pick up the ice bucket. He pocketed his phone and turned to Cas, who was sitting on Dean's bed and staring at Sam.

"Wanna go get some ice, Cas?" Dean asked him.

Cas did not reply for a moment, but then he looked up at Dean, at the little bucket in his hand, and nodded. "Sure. Come on." He got up and joined Dean and the two of them made their way to the vending machines to get some ice. Cas stood by as Dean shovelled ice into the bucket, and all was quiet until Dean suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder.

He jumped, spilling cubes of ice on the floor. "Jesus, Cas, at least say something before you—"

"Dean. They're here."

Dean turned around, not wanting to ask who, because he knew. Sure enough, Frank and Cindy were standing a few feet away, Cindy smug as ever and Frank's eyes dark and almost dangerous.

Cindy took off a glove, fingers glowing with a spark of blue. "Hello, Dean. Ameer Castiel," she said. "How is Sam? Are you still happy you betrayed our queen?"

Dean did not need to think very hard to do what he did next. Ice bucket be damned, he pulled Cas's hand into his and whispered into his friend's ear. " _Run_."

 **~o~**

 ** _Now_**

"They're not in love," Frank tells Cindy as they watch Castiel go back to his so-called fiancé. Cindy watches him leave and nods, because she knows; but she is not stupid.

"I still think that deal is not our best," she says. "They seem to be very convincing."

"They can't convince us," Frank tells her. "It will be fun to watch, but you know how it's going to turn out."

She shrugs. "I guess. I just hope we're right about this, or it's going to be a big screw up."

"Nah," he replies. "I think we should have a betting pool on how many times they'll try to act all romantic until they're grossed out."

She smirks at him, but nods. "Gambling is bad, Frank. But you know, let's discuss it with the others."

"Yes, let's." He puts an arm around her and they head back home, knowing full well that catching these two fools in their blatant lie is probably going to be more entertainment than they have had for a while. Cindy is so down for this one. Liars are her least favourite people and these two will pay way more than they anticipated.

Just like that dentist's dad for making his deal and not keeping up with his payment.


	2. Just Sam

**Two: Just Sam**

Sam giggles, eyes half-mast, as Dean tries to hoist him up against the bed's headboard with a pillow for support. He's drooling again and there's so much of it that Dean's a little worried that his brother might choke on it all. So he's been trying to get Sam cleaned up, except, Sam's now on pain meds and once again, high.

"Y'r – yyrr in loooove!" he says, snorting, and Dean rolls his eyes as he grabs a face towel for Sam.

"Man, you were never so good with anaesthesia or pain meds," Dean says, dipping the towel into a bowl of warm water, squeezing excess water out, and patting it onto his brother's swollen face. "Look at all this stuff I gotta do for you. You owe me big time."

Sam blows a raspberry. A fucking _raspberry_. Dean sighs. What is his life?

Just then there is a knock at the door, and when Dean shouts a 'come in,' Cas opens it, and peeks in. "Hello, Dean," he says.

He'd gone out to shop for some supplies for Sam. They'd tried to hold on with Dean's bag of emergency supplies to avoid having to shop, and consequently running into the djinns but with Sam's size and capacity they'd been out by noon.

Dean dips the towel in water again, squeezes the excess out, and turns around. "Hey, Cas. What did you get?"

"Jello, like you said," he replies. "Soup and Gatorade, too."

"Awesome." Dean holds the towel to Sam's jaw and his brother sighs, leaning into the warmth. Dean stays there, wondering how Sam manages to make himself so small sometimes. "The djinns?"

I did not see them, but…" Cas comes close and presses his lips against Dean's. Dean kisses him back to get their five-minute meter running, and pulls away, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up his cheeks.

"But what?" he asks, voice a little hoarse. He clears it and tries again. "But what about the djinns?"

"They're around," Cas replies. "I can feel them. But when you and I are… intimate, they do honestly leave."

"Are you sure they're not tricking you into thinking they're not here when we you know…" Dean bites his lip for a moment, "you know. Do stuff. So they can spy on us when we think they're not?"

Cas smiles, sweet and simple. "Of course not. I'm an angel. They cannot trick me to that extent."

"If you say so."

"I'm sure of it."

Cas's earnestness is enough for Dean, and he takes a moment to marvel just how much power Cas holds back from him and Sam sometimes, and just how much Cas can actually do. Dean gets the towel off Sam's face and dries his jaw with the cuff of his sleeve. "We need to book tickets to Syria, man. Or call your wife here. We need to do something."

"I know," says Cas. "I'm not sure it's appropriate to demand of her to come here when I'm the one seeking divorce, so I think we should go visit her there."

"Good luck with that, then, 'cause I ain't sitting in an airplane that long."

Cas blinks at Dean, then remembers. "Your fear of flying."

"You got it."

"Dean, it will only be a few hours. Sam and I will be around to help you."

"Oh, really, Cas?" Dean asks, emptying the water bowl at the sink. " _Really_? Can you stop the plane from crashing?"

"Planes don't crash. Not that often."

"Say that to the people who died because it _did_ crash!"

"You're being unreasonable."

"No I'm not!" Dean dries his hands on his jeans. "Ask Snoring McSnoreface here if you don't believe me," he says, tilting his head at his brother. "He's flown with me on a plane that was actually about to crash once. There was a demon in it, Cas! A _demon_!"

Cas opens his mouth to reply, sighs, and tilts his head at Dean, a shroud of understanding falling over his face. "You don't have to come along," he says. "I understand. I will go there by myself. If Sam wants to come along, I'll take him along as well. But don't worry about it. This is the last thing you should be stressed about."

Dean feels a small smile creep up his own face, looks away slightly, and nods. He glances at his sleeping brother, then at his watch, and hesitates for a bit, but takes a step forward, towards Cas. Cas's eyebrows scrunch in surprise, but Dean doesn't wait for him to speak. He merely leans over, pecks Cas's lips, feeling the moisture on them, kissing him softly. When Dean pulls back a little, Cas looks up at him and Dean shrugs. "Just need some more time away from the djinns," he says, voice barely above a whisper.

Cas nods, takes a step forward, and locks lips with Dean again.

They do it until they get an entire afternoon away from the djinns, all to themselves, as Sam continues on in his oblivious slumber. There are no words. They only have each other and the small, wet kisses, soft and gentle, slow and light, for most of the next few hours.

At the end of it, if Dean has to convince himself more than just a little, that it was all about pretending, he tries not to think about it. Cas actually being his lover or his fiancé is ridiculous, and it is always going to be that way. For now, acting like he loves his friend, for those stupid djinns, is the only thing he can do and if he's doing this, there is no point in half-assing it.

He has to be sure that it looks real enough and for that, he is prepared to work a little hard.

No, he tells himself, he is still not in love with Cas.

Not in love with Cas for sure.

 **~o~**

Sam dreams of screaming children. Of Jack and Mom trying to escape monsters, running endlessly through fields of carcasses and blood. The sky is a bright orange, fire in the horizon, and Mom holds Jack's arm as they continue to escape the dangers that lie beyond. Jack stumbles and Mom catches him, they kick away human bones to clear their path, and there is a screech—a loud, shrill screech, and a whispering voice that speaks over them all.

"You're mine."

The sky turns a deep blue and they stop in their tracks. Sam wants to call out to them—help them—but he can't, and Mom grips Jack's arm hard as they look around, trying to find their way.

"You're mine."

There is lightning, followed by the growl of thunder. Clouds swirl, grey and black, and Sam's jaw drops when he sees it. When he sees who the sky is transforming into.

The face is the most beautiful and terrible face he's ever seen. Almond eyes, grey as ash, a straight nose with blood red lips. Hair golden, glowing in the blackness of the sky, and… and behind it all, the beautiful, luminous gleam of a halo.

It's the most terrifying face he's ever had to see. So angelic, but capable of the worst things. So evil.

Lucifer laughs again. At Jack.

 _You're mine._

"DEAN!"

Sam's up and alert, Dean's name on his lips even before he realises it. A door shuts somewhere in the room, and Sam looks about frantically to see his brother rush towards him.

"Sam?!"

Sam blinks at him, runs a hand over his sweat-dampened face, and sighs. "Sorry," he says, "I…"

"Jack and Mom?" Dean asks him.

Sam averts his gaze from his brother and nods. He presses his lips together to stop them from trembling and hopes that Dean isn't noticing this. He can feel his brother's eyes still on him, and he pushes his blankets away, if only to do something with his hands.

There is a dull ache along his jaw, going to his head and causing a pounding there. Sam knows he'd taken pain meds just before sleeping but he hopes the pain won't intensify from here. He can't take any more nightmares right now. It's too much, it's just, he needs a break.

"Hey." Dean takes a seat next to Sam on the bed, mattress dipping under his weight. Sam finally looks at him.

"You good?" Dean asks him. "Wanna go for a walk?"

Sam huffs out a small laugh. "We're not on a picnic, Dean."

"You don't need to be on a picnic to take walks. Plus we need to figure this djinn thing out and while we're at it…" He turns around, as if checking for them. "Cas and I decided to put the other stuff on hold for this week."

"Because…?"

"Because they want proof," says Dean. "Of me and Cas… you know."

Sam vaguely remembers laughing at something Dean had said earlier about pretending to be Cas's lover. It's still funny, even without the drugs, but right now his mood's soured from the dream and he's not sure he's up to teasing his brother.

Dean seems to catch on to this. "Come on," he says, tugging at Sam's sleeve, "let's go for a walk."

"Dean, I told you—"

"Sammy."

Sam takes in a shuddering breath and faces his brother. "I'm tired," he says. "Just leave me alone for a bit."

"I know."

"Then…" Sam bites back the frustration that's welling inside of him. "Then go find Cas, wherever he is…"

"He's gone to the library to look up stuff about djinn laws. For his divorce."

"Divorce." Sam shakes his head. He looks down, fidgets with the bedcovers. "Do we have to go to Syria?"

"You two? Yes," replies Dean, getting up and bending over at the minibar to pick up one of the beers from the case he'd bought yesterday. "I'm not coming," he says as he uncaps the bottle.

"Don't be ridiculous," says Sam. "You have to go, too."

"Nope. Cas said I can stay."

"Cas is always being soft on you," Sam mutters under his breath, letting himself smile just a little bit.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You said something."

"Something I didn't want you to hear, obviously."

Dean shakes his head and narrows his eyes from his corner of the room. "Do you have to be a bitch about this?"

"Do you realise that Cas probably really wants you there with him but just isn't saying so, because he cares about you?"

"And that's awesome of him," says Dean, "and I appreciate that and am accepting the gesture."

Sam rolls his eyes. His brother is never, ever going to understand. He's probably going to remain clueless forever and keep being insensitive with Cas like this. They will keep skirting around each other for eternities and Sam will probably have to tell them at some point— _nope_ , he is not planning on playing matchmaker for his idiot brother and his idiot angel friend. Nope.

He wonders if this fake engagement is even going to help clearing up what Dean and Cas obviously feel for each other. They're so ignorant of it—Dean especially so. _God_.

He's not in the mood for this. He's just had a nightmare and he needs coffee and a shower in that exact order, then maybe some more painkillers that will stop that dull ache in his jaw, without giving him any more nightmares.

Dean seems relentless, though. He swigs the last of his beer and tosses the bottle, pockets the car keys and puts his jacket on, turning to Sam. "You were gonna join me for a walk," he says.

"No, I wasn't." Sam bites on the inside of his cheek after he says it to keep himself from snapping or gritting his teeth. "I'm not really up to it."

Dean frowns. "Must have been a hell of a nightmare for you to say no to any kind of exercise."

"Maybe." Sam takes a deep breath. "I just. I _just_."

He leaves it there. _He just_. He doesn't know he just what. It's always been a mess of indescribable emotions and thoughts inside of him. A mess he doesn't want to poke at with a ten-foot-long stick.

"Sammy, we'll get them back."

Dean's been saying this a lot lately. It's like a role-reversal. Before Cas was back, it was Sam who had to assure his brother and make him feel better about this. Now he finds himself devoid of any of the strength he'd had at that time. Like a deflated balloon.

He licks his lips.

"I know," he says. "I know, it's not just…" Sam's breath hitches and he fists the bedcovers underneath him. Dean notices and moves, seating himself on the opposite bed, fingers going to trace designs on his own bedcovers.

"Anything we need to talk about?"

Dean rarely offers like this. Sam is sure Dean thinks he's super fucked-up to even offer. He still shakes his head. "No. No. It's routine stuff."

"You routinely get nightmares?"

Sam looks into his brother's eyes, raises his eyebrows. "And you don't?"

"Yeah, I do."

"I don't see _you_ wanting to talk about them."

"I'm different."

Sam wonders why Dean thinks so. It's been painfully obvious, since Dad, since the apocalypse, since Bobby, since everything, that there isn't a bigger myth than this—that he and Dean are different from each other. It turns out, they're the same and they barely know it themselves.

Sam always thought he wouldn't be his dad or his brother. Not that there was anything wrong with them, just that Sam had always wanted to be a different person. Himself. Just Sam. He thought he'd be normal. He wouldn't be a freak. He'd be different. He'd be Sam.

He couldn't have been further off the mark about all of that. Though, over the years he's come to accept this—the fact that he is no different—he wonders, still wonders if there is any part of him that separates him from his family. If sometimes, people think of him as anyone other than a Winchester, a hunter, a freak, Lucifer's vessel, or a monster.

He doesn't think people like that exist anymore.

"Hey Sasquatch," says Dean, interrupting his thoughts again. "Wanna take that walk now?"

Sam presses his lips together, shuts his eyes, and nods. Doesn't look like Dean is taking no for an answer today so he might as well go along with him. He'll come back and get his coffee and painkillers. Then he's not letting Dean come near him until this stupid jawache is better.

 **~o~**

Cas is researching djinns when he senses them at the library. He can always sense them but they're in their physical form here, somewhere really close. His hairs stand up and he feels a twinge of irritation.

Deciding that he'd rather be in the hotel room with Dean and Sam, Cas gets up with his notes and tucks them under his arm before shutting the old book he'd been reading. He returns it to its dusty shelf and hurries out, into the waning sunlight. It's been a long, long day.

"Ameer!"

Cindy's cheery voice greets him the moment he starts to walk to the hotel. He grits his teeth and turns around to see her standing a few feet away from him, along with Frank, as she gathers her long hair into a ponytail.

"Didn't think you'd run out of there so soon," she says. "Did we make you uncomfortable?"

"You're spying on my fiancé and I for a week," says Cas. " _You_ tell me if I should be comfortable with that."

"Deal's a deal," says Cindy. "You shouldn't have married Malika Aaliyah if you didn't want consequences."

"And yet," Cas says, tilting his head, "it's not the queen who's spying on me now, is it? She seems less concerned about this than you are."

"She's just too busy for you," Cindy replies. "Don't think that she doesn't care. She does, and we are loyal to her."

"That's good to hear." Cas turns around and starts on his path, but Frank and Cindy catch up to him. He swallows down his temper and continues, telling himself that anger will not help this situation at all. He hopes Dean's in the hotel room so they can do something to get rid of these djinns for a while.

"We saw that things got pretty hot and heavy earlier today, huh?" says Frank, as though he were reading Cas's thoughts.

"He's going to marry me," Cas replies, quickening his pace, shoes scuffing against the pavement. "You shouldn't be surprised when things get that way."

"Oh, we're not surprised," Cindy replies from behind him, catching up with him.

"Good." Cas bites his lip. "Are you here for anything else? Do you, perhaps, want to spy on Dean and I having sexual intercourse?"

"Ooh, temper," says Frank. "No, no. We're not here to watch you do the dirty. We just wanted to talk, man! We thought you'd be getting lonely out there at the library."

"Well, I'm not. I don't need your company. You may spy on me invisibly now."

"Nasty."

Cas rolls his eyes. He doesn't know how to get rid of them. He needs time away. He so badly needs them out of his sight right now. It's as if all his frustrations from a few minutes ago are getting magnified by the minute. He can barely stand it anymore.

He takes a look at Frank and Cindy, still walking alongside him, all smirks, and picks up his phone to dial Dean. The hotel, mercifully comes into view at that exact point.

Dean picks up on the third ring. _"Cas?"_

"Are you in the room?"

 _"No, I'm downstairs with Sam."_

"Downstairs where?"

 _"Is everything okay?"_

Cas takes a deep breath. "Yes, Dean. Please. Just tell me where you are."

"There's a park outside the hotel. I'm taking a walk with Sammy."

"I'm coming there."

Cas quickens his pace and ignores Frank and Cindy, reaching the park as soon as he can. When he gets there, Dean isn't around at first and Cas almost panics— _almost_ , but then he finds Dean on the other side and true to his word, Dean is taking a walk with Sam.

Cas doesn't really think a lot after that. He only returns Dean's wave, to break into a run towards him, and if Dean's shocked at that Cas has no time to take note of his expressions or anything he's trying to say because he's reached Dean in the next few seconds, only to wrap his arms around him and pull him into a kiss.

The satisfaction of Dean kissing him back rivals that of the djinns disappearing from Cas's peripheral vision. It's only when he pulls back that he takes a look at Sam's face. At his jaw hanging, mouth agape, and eyes wide.

"Dude," Sam says, looking from Dean to Cas and back, and Cas realises that Dean did not provide him with much explanations about what happened during the time Sam spent unconscious on painkillers. So just for that, just so they can have more time to fill Sam in with what's going on, Cas pulls at Dean again, and Dean obliges with another kiss.

"Sam, we can explain," he says once they've separated.

Sam shakes his head. "Dude," he says again. "What the fuck?!"

Those words, in that moment, are what describe Cas's entire life ever since he met the Winchesters, he thinks. After spending an entire afternoon making out with Dean for the sake of the wellness of his and Dean's oral health, there are probably only three words that can fit into this situation, or the list of situations that the three of them alone seem to face all the time.

 _What the fuck._

 **~o~**

"We can explain."

Dean realises that those are probably the only words that are keeping Sam quiet as they head back to the room. Their five minutes are running out and he and Cas are going to have to get the djinns to leave a few times over the course of the explanation, and of course, Sam's gonna make fun of them like he's bound to.

 _God_ , the things they have to do to keep themselves safe sometimes.

They reach the room and Dean leans forward to kiss Cas when he shuts the door behind him. However, Cas puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him, and looks at Sam.

"Sam," he says, "the djinns will not spy on your brother and I if we're being intimate. That's why, you must understand that this is necessary." He turns around and nods, then kisses Dean, and for some reason, Dean's heart is not sinking anymore at the supposed rejection.

Sam's eyebrow is already up as he seats himself on the bed, rubbing his jaw. "How long do you get? To keep them out?"

"Five minutes," says Dean, as he and Cas return to his own bed. "That's why we gotta do it a few times for longer conversations."

"And… what about… when you're…?" Sam's other eyebrow goes up as well and he waggles them, a small smirk appearing on his face.

Dean can feel a rush of blood into his cheeks. Beside him, Cas is beet red, too, and it's kinda cute, but Dean doesn't suppose he's ever going to tell Cas that.

"We're…" Dean clears his throat, "we're not gonna fuck, dude."

"But if it gives you more time, maybe you should," says Sam, snorting, and Dean would have kicked him had he not felt sorry about the fact that Sam's already in enough pain.

"Dude," he says, "go take your meds and your nap."

"No, I'm serious," Sam says, pretending like he totally is, voice all business-like as if he read a fucking study or ten online. Asshole. "It would make more sense to do it once and get a long time away from them," he says, "than to kiss him many times for five minutes each. No?" He turns to Cas. "Or is Dean a really good kisser?"

"He _is_ fairly good—"

"Cas!"

"Dean, Sam's trying to make a point here."

Dean rolls his eyes at Cas and gets up. "He's yanking our chain." Sam grins up at him and Dean flips his brother off before grabbing pills and water. He comes back and gives both to Sam. "You were better off unconscious."

Sam takes them. "You don't have to get me to sleep to do it, Dean. We have enough cash for another room…"

"Sammy!"

"No, seriously."

"Go sleep, you asshole, or I'll play Kashmir all the way back home."

"As if you weren't planning on doing it already." Sam puts the pills and water on his bedside table. "Anyway. I gotta eat before I take these, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Dean sighs, rubbing his forehead. "I'll run to the diner across the street. What do you want?" He's already halfway out of the bed to collect his jacket when Sam replies.

"Chicken sandwich and fries."

"Good." Dean pockets his keys out of force of habit, even though he won't be driving. "Cas, you? Coffee? A burger?"

"Maybe a burger to keep you two company," says Cas, "and I'll come with you, Dean."

Sam snorts again. "Is that what you're gonna say to each other later on, as you," he makes air quotes, "'ward off the djinns'?"

"Ha ha," Dean deadpans, beckoning to Cas as they get to the door. "Very funny."

He feels his insides warm up when he sees the twinkle in Sam's eyes at that moment, just before he shuts the door behind him and Cas.

They make it to the diner without incident and the order arrives fairly soon. Dean is glad, because his stomach is starting to growl. While they head back to the hotel room, he has to huddle into his jacket because it is chilly all of a sudden, and Cas puts an arm around him, making him feel instantly better.

He is thankful when Cas pulls his arm back just before they enter their hotel room.

Dinner is silent. Sam doesn't seem to be in a mood to tease them any further. They eat their food together, only physically with each other but mentally in worlds of their own.

When they're done Dean clears their things and opens up another beer while Sam takes the pills, Adam's apple moving with each swallow of water. Dean watches, remembering that his brother had had a nightmare before, and wonders if it's actually a good idea to get him to take those meds again. Sam's in pain, though, so Dean guesses this is the best way.

Once he's done with the meds, Sam bends over and rests his elbows on his thighs, head in his hands, and Dean and Cas watch him in the silence that prevails. It's only when Sam gets up, muttering something about taking a shower before sleeping again, that Dean turns to Cas. When Cas leans over to give him another kiss Dean feels much, much better.

Sam gets into bed soon after, and he doesn't stir or even make a sound while he sleeps. Dean still keeps an eye on him, determined to be there for him in case another nightmare takes him over. However, Sam sleeps better than earlier and once it's late enough, Dean gets into bed as well. He doesn't say anything about Cas sitting at the dining table and claiming to watch over him and Sam. Doesn't say anything when he's dozing, only to feel the bed dip beside him, and warm arms enclose him.

Dean finds Cas's now familiar lips and locks them with his own, hand moving up and down Cas's back as they kiss. He curves a leg around both of Cas's and pulls him even closer, feeling Cas fist his nightshirt, running his tongue over the corner of Cas's mouth, tasting him. It lasts maybe a couple of minutes—hot breaths, sighs and gasps, and Cas's hand creeping underneath Dean's t-shirt to palm his back, his hips, stripping Dean of the t-shirt. Dean does the same with Cas, undoing his tie and his shirt shirt and getting them off, then Cas's trousers, before pulling off and kicking away his own sweatpants.

Cas's naked skin feels amazing against his own; warm and soft and nurturing, and Dean holds on, kissing him again and again, and feeling Cas reciprocate the same. He's glad the djinns won't visit them—not even if they fall asleep—and he's glad Cas is with him right now.

Dean is probably too tired at this point, but if you asked him about it in that moment, he hasn't felt this content since the day Sam was born.

 **~o~**

"Help!"

Sam's tied up, arms and legs bound with ropes to a chair as she struggles. As Magda struggles.

A crack of the whip. She screams again. She's just a child. Just a girl.

"Help!" she shrieks, tearstained face pleading at Sam.

Another lash.

Sam wants to scream but his voice doesn't work. They took it away. Cut it out of him, so he can't do anything. He can't get out, can't talk.

"Please."

There's a gunshot. Then another. A dark, dark figure. Sam doesn't see who it is, but he does see her fall. Sees her die.

 _Pleasant Valley, Missouri._

The screams that he hears after are his own, of him waking up, and as Dean and Cas rush to him, Sam realises that this, somehow, was no ordinary nightmare. And if that's true…

"Magda," he whispers, his voice dissipating into the thick silence in the wake of his nightmare.

 **~o~**

They're sitting quietly, lights dim, as Dean nurses a coffee. Sam can practically see the gears of his brother's mind turn as he thinks about everything that Sam just said. Sam's own jaw and head are aching something awful but he can't shake it off. Can't stop the images running through his head. He doesn't know how to convince Dean and Cas, though, that what he saw just now was most definitely a vision and not just a nightmare.

While Sam thinks of ways to make himself clearer to his brother Dean manages to finish his coffee and puts the cup down before rubbing his eyes.

"You wanna drive to California right now, that's what you're saying?" he asks Sam.

"Yes, Dean, Magda—"

"Dude, you don't get visions anymore. Remember what happened the last time you believed that?"

Sam flinches. Of course he remembers. Why on earth wouldn't he? But that's beside the point.

"It felt different."

"Different, how?"

"It was vivid."

"I get vivid dreams, too," says Dean. "Doesn't mean they're any different from the rest of 'em. Plus you've been taking some pretty heavy-duty meds there."

Sam grits his teeth. "I know."

"And," Dean continues, as if he doesn't notice how annoyed Sam is already, "we can't leave this place. The djinns are on our asses and Cas needs to divorce that queen or whatever."

"Then you stay," says Sam. "I'll go and check on her."

"Why can't you just call? I'm pretty sure that social worker gave me her number. Beth, yeah?"

Sam's kinda surprised that Dean remembers her name, but he nods. Cas, who has been sitting quiet this entire time, finally speaks. "Who's Beth?"

"Just the chick who worked Magda's case," says Dean, waving the question off.

Cas's eyebrows furrow, but he doesn't say anything. Sam sighs. "Look, Dean, if it's all the same—"

"No, it's not! You can't just leave in the middle like this, Sam. And with – you've just had this dental treatment and the meds are making you see all kinds of weird crap!"

"I know, but—"

"But what?" Dean asks him. "Why can't you at least wait until the morning?"

"What if it's all true?"

"Then she's fucking dead and there's nothing you can do about it!"

The words hit Sam like a high-speed bullet train. If his nightmare… or vision is true, then Magda is dead. Someone shot her. He'd tried, tried that day to save her, promised to be there for her… but there is nothing he can do from here. Nothing he can do to bring her back.

He feels a hand on his shoulder and looks up to see Dean standing over him. He moves over on his bed and Dean sits beside him, scooting back so his legs are hanging over the edge of the bed. He has his wallet in his hand, and Sam watches as he opens it and draws out Beth's card.

"Take it," Dean says, handing it to Sam. "Wait for the morning. Call her and find out about Magda. If you still need to go after that, I'll drive you there myself. I don't care if the djinns give me a toothache or four for that, but I'll help you. Okay?"

Sam takes the card and stares at it without really reading whatever's written on it. He licks his lips. Nods. "Okay."

"Good," says Dean, patting Sam's back twice. He gets up and moves over to his own bed, then turns to Sam. "You gonna sleep now?"

"Gonna try," Sam replies.

"Great. 'Cause that coffee didn't help me and I can't sit any longer. Cas and I are right here so you can holler if you need anything else. Cool?"

"Cool," says Sam, setting Beth's business card aside and settling into his bed. He pulls the covers around himself and snuggles in, only stopping when he realises something. Both Dean and Cas are… well, they're in their boxers. And while Dean's known for sleeping in his boxers in the past Sam's not sure why Cas, who doesn't sleep, is stripped down, too.

He frowns, turning around to his brother, who is busy fluffing his own pillows.

"Hey Dean?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you…?" Sam's eyes go to Cas, who is standing patiently beside Dean, as if waiting for Dean to right his bed. As if…

 _Fuck_.

"Are you and—" Sam smiles, the weirdness and hilarity of the situation just hitting him. "Dude, are you and Cas sleeping in the same bed?"

Dean takes a bit to answer, and Sam watches him take his own time to right the pillows and his blanket until he does. When he finishes, he leans over to kiss Cas, to kiss the man he supposedly isn't in love with, on the mouth.

"You're talking as if you and I have never shared."

"That's different."

"Different how? What, I can't share a bed with my best friend now? Gross, Sammy."

"Well, for one, we've never cuddled in our boxers," says Sam.

"Who said Cas and I are cuddling? It's just…" Dean looks around and shrugs. "Hot, okay?"

Sam snorts. "You're saying you don't know what's different? After all this? Do me a favour, Dean. If you're going to have sex, please wake me up so I can book another room for myself. I have no intention of waking up and watching you two do things to give me a heart attack."

Dean kisses Cas again, stopping just to say three words to Sam.

"Fuck off, asshole."

Sam's never been happier to go back to sleep after that one. He hears Dean talk quietly and Cas reply, equally quiet, and wonders if they will try to extend their five minutes with any more kisses. He never finds out, though, for sleep comes swiftly, and when he wakes up in the morning after another dream of fires and death, there is only one thing that he remembers to do.

Beth's number is right there at his bedside table where he'd left it last night and he retrieves it. He takes a few deep breaths before he gets to his phone and dials the number. She picks up almost immediately.

 _"Hello?"_

"Hello? This is – uh – I'm…" Sam strains to remember his alias, "Agent – Agent Morrison. From Magda Peterson's case?"

 _"Agent…? Oh! Your partner, Agent Manzarek. I, uh, gave him this number."_

"Yes… he," Sam turns to Dean, who is shaving in the bathroom, door wide open behind him, "he gave me your card."

She doesn't hang up, and he can hear her breathing from the other side of the line. He always wondered why Dean didn't call her, but when he sees Cas hovering outside, waiting for Dean, he knows the answer. Even if Dean, the idiot, doesn't.

He clears his throat. "Anyway. You sent her to her aunt, right? Magda?"

 _"Magda. Yes, we did send her to California."_

"Yeah. So – so is it okay… can I contact her? Not her, but her aunt? Just wanted to check if she's all right."

 _"Any… particular reason for that, Agent?"_ Beth's starting to sound suspicious, and Sam realises that this was probably a bad idea. God knows what she thinks of him from this conversation, about him calling out of the blue and asking about a child.

Jesus. He really didn't contemplate this enough. He should have at least rehearsed what he wanted to say to her before calling and coming across like a creep.

"I…" He licks his lips. "No particular reason. My partner and I just like to follow up on cases like this. It was pretty tragic. So…" He leaves it there.

 _"I'm sure you've seen worse."_

"Yes, but… it was one of those cases that we never forgot. You understand?"

She takes a few moments to process that. _"Okay,"_ she says, _"maybe you can visit us with a letter from your SAC and we'll tell you."_

Sam's heart sinks. He did not think of this but it seems like a reasonable request to have for some thirty-something dude asking about a child. He doesn't think he can use Beth's help, though. He'll just have to hack into their system or use another way to find out about Magda.

"Oh, oh, okay," he says to Beth. "We got transferred from our Iowa branch, actually, so your town is out of our new branch's jurisdiction, but – but if it's that much paperwork… it's – it's okay. Thank you."

He's about to hang up the phone, but Beth calls out from the other side. _"Wait."_

"Yes?"

 _"Do you really not know?"_

"Know what?"

 _"I thought it showed up in your files but you were just calling to…"_ She doesn't elaborate. _"Your partner still working with you? How did you get my number?"_

"Yes, yes, he—" Sam turns to Dean, "he's engaged now and everything, and like I said, we're at another branch."

 _"Didn't need that information,"_ she says, _"but check your files. It happened the very night we sent Magda to California."_

Goosebumps erupt all over Sam when he hears that and he knows. He knows. He still manages to get his voice out to ask the question to Beth. "What happened?"

 _"She was killed,"_ she says, voice morose and a little angry. _"Someone shot her when she was using the bathroom. Two bullets. She was dead immediately."_

Sam swallows. "Where did this happen?"

 _"Pleasant Valley, Missouri."_


	3. Crashing

**Three: Crashing**

"She was shot?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I said, Dean. Why can't you fucking listen?!"

"Hey, there's no need to snap at me! I was just asking!"

Sam has a headache again and he can barely stomach the breakfast that Dean wants him to eat. Dean said he needs it for his antibiotics but Sam doesn't really give two fucks about anything but Magda right now. It's not like he can change things. It's not like the antibiotics – or him listening to Dean – will make everything better.

Magda will still be dead. Magda will still have been killed the very day that Sam promised to be there to help her. The very day that he told her that she wasn't evil. That she was normal and that she deserved a good life just like anyone else.

She didn't even get to live that life.

Sam pushes his food away, slightly nauseous. He'd called Beth, hoping against hope for an answer, but this was what he got. Apart from the fact that his nightmare wasn't just a regular nightmare, that what he'd seen was real.

Except it is more than a year too late now.

"Sammy."

Sam ignores Dean and gets up from the table. "I'm not hungry."

"You gotta eat for the meds."

"I don't want them."

"Sam, you had a fucking dental surgery yesterday. You need those meds. If you catch an infection—"

"—then I'll fucking die," Sam grits out, turning around to his brother. He glares at Dean, challenging him to say something, but Dean just shrugs.

"She could be lying, you know. Beth."

"And why would she do that?"

"Because I didn't call? Because she's a horrible person? I don't know, man."

Sam rolls his eyes. "She wasn't really dying to know about you, you know. Despite what you think, people _do_ get over you. She was just reluctant because I'm an adult asking about a kid, and I get that."

"Still. You never know what she was really up to. Just…" Dean glances at Cas, "let's finish this case. Then we can investigate Magda as much as you want, okay?"

Sam almost laughs on his way to his bed as he bends over to collect his watch. "I think it's far too late for that, Dean. I don't think Beth was lying. I don't think Magda is alive. I saw it, and there was no way Beth could know about my vision."

"Okay," says Dean, getting up as well. "So what do you wanna do? What do you want us to do?"

"You work on the djinns," Sam tells them. "I'll take care of this one."

"By doing what?"

He takes a deep breath. "I'm going to find out who killed her."

 **~o~**

Dean and Cas decide to take a walk at the park from yesterday because Dean can't stand the damn hotel room or bear to sit on his ass trying to prove himself to the djinns anymore. Sam left for the library without a good breakfast or his antibiotics and Dean is also really fucking annoyed with him for being this way.

He hopes Sam will come back and take his meds once he's satisfied with whatever he finds. As if it's not bad enough that Magda is dead. They don't need another quest for vengeance on their hands when they're already dealing with the world falling apart again.

"Dean." He feels a touch on his elbow and knows he's been walking too fast. He slows down, crunching a dry leaf under his shoe, and listens to Cas.

"I understand you're upset," Cas says to him, fingers holding Dean's sleeve, "but please give Sam his space."

Dean nods. "I _am_ giving him his space. But he can't just stop taking his meds and run out on me like that and expect me to be okay with it."

"He is an adult. You have to treat him like one."

"Not if he behaves like a damn kid!"

"He's upset. He just found out that a child whom he worked hard to return to safety, is dead. He should be given time to mourn. He knows he has to eat and take his medication and get rest, and he will do it."

Dean lets out a huff of annoyed laughter. "If you _really_ think so, Cas, you don't know shit about him even after knowing him nine years."

"I disagree," says Cas.

"You disagree."

"I believe that you are wrong. I know both you and Sam very well, and both of you act irresponsibly much of the time, but if he doesn't take care of himself after coming back from the library, I will convince him to do so myself."

They're halfway across the park now, and Dean goes ahead and leans against a gigantic tree, folding his arms. He turns to Cas. "You think you can convince him," he says. "Are you sure about that?"

"He's not unreasonable." Cas's eyes are narrowed, the brightness of the day reflecting off his clear blue irises, and Dean needs a whole moment to stop being so mesmerised by the whole thing.

He pulls himself back together, snorting. "Cas, man, you're an angel and everything, but you're a fucking dumbass sometimes. Sam's done a lot of stupid and unreasonable things before, or don't you remember? He's pig-headed, too."

A half-smile appears on Cas's face. "Like you?"

"Shut up." Dean lets himself chuckle, still leaning against the tree. He stares ahead at the hotel, at the sunlight flashing off the windows, and thinks of how grateful he's going to be when he can finally go back to the bunker with Sam and Cas and forget about this whole fiasco.

Just like that, at that very fucking moment, as if Dean had jinxed all of it by his thoughts, he spots _him_. Frank, the fucking djinn. He's in the park, walking towards Dean and Cas and fuck, Dean hasn't had enough sleep to be able to handle this crap.

"Cas," he says raising his eyebrows at him, and his friend understands at once, even though his back is to the djinn. He steps forward and Dean grabs him by the lapels to kiss him, the action feeling all too familiar now.

"Uh-uh, not so fast, you can't get rid of us this time," Frank's annoying voice calls out from behind Cas and Dean pulls back, frowning at the djinns.

"What do you want?" he asks. "Can't Cas and I have five minutes to ourselves now? Did you not get your dose of porn last night?"

Frank seems unaffected by whatever Dean's saying. "You can talk all you like," he says, "but we heard the conversation you were having with your brother last night, and we just wanted to remind you that if you leave this place, the deal's off. We'll attack you."

Dean rolls his eyes. "I thought as much. Now if you're done," he turns to Cas and gives him his hand, "come on, Cas, let's go somewhere really private."

Cas takes his hand and they start to walk into the hotel with Frank following them. They ignore him as they get to the lobby and wait for the elevator. He can go about talking to himself if he wants. Dean is just too tired today, and he knows that Cas is, too.

"I mean it," Frank continues from behind them, capitalising on the fact that the elevator is not there yet. A busboy pushes past a cart of luggage and the elevator seems to be stuck on the fourth floor. Frank comes in to stand right behind Dean and whispers into his ear. "It's not just one surgery that Sam will need," he says, "you know that, right?"

"Come on, come on," Dean mutters under his breath, pushing at the elevator button a few more times, urging it to move and when it does, it seems like it's taking too long. Frank is there, leering at them, and when the elevator doors finally open, Dean feels like his life's just been sorted. Cas gets in and Frank moves forward but Dean pushes him back, hard, and runs in. He jams the button get the doors to shut, succeeding just before Frank comes rushing in.

Slightly relieved about shutting Frank out, Dean slumps back against a wall as the elevator continues to their floor. He and Cas will get into their damn room and not open their door for anyone but Sam now. They've had enough of these assholes.

When the elevator doors open, though, Dean almost groans when he realises that Frank didn't need the elevator to get up to their floor. As if the fact that he's always spying on them isn't enough already. That fucking smirk. Dean swears he'd rip those lips off if he weren't trying to be careful about pissing the djinns off further.

He and Cas make their way to their room, the djinn following them, and by the time Dean's unlocked their door, he's had enough. Enough to last him an entire fucking year.

"You know what, Frank?" he says as he puts his key card into the slot to switch on the lights, "you asked for whatever happens next." Dean turns to Cas, nods at him, silently begging him to trust him, and Cas nods back. _Do whatever you have to_. Dean puts his hands on Cas's shoulders, feels Cas hold on to his waist, and turns to the djinn. "Are you going to fuck off?"

He briefly meets Cas's eyes, and Cas's fingers tighten where they're gripping Dean, granting consent. _Do it_. Meanwhile, Frank is grinning now as he leans against the doorway, hands in his pockets. "Or what, Dean? Are you two going to kiss to push me away? Because we know it's fake—that you're lying, and—"

He doesn't even get to finish his sentence when Dean pushes Cas to the wall.

He kisses Cas behind his ear, drawing a gasp from him. Then Dean leans forward into Cas, resting his body against him, and feels Cas's hands fist his jacket.

He licks Cas's skin, tongue drawing a wet trail down, and takes a breath before grinding against Cas. He gasps but Dean thrusts, again and again. Cas's mouth is half-open, chin on Dean's shoulder as he continues to rock against him, palms splayed against the wall.

Cas holds on to him for dear life, still gasping. Dean can hear the panting and grunting, the barely held-back moans, and _fuck_ , he really wishes they didn't have to have their pants on but he continues, knocking against Cas again and again until he realises, until it comes to his senses that it's no longer needed. That Frank vanished a long time ago.

Dean stops, takes a deep breath, and moves away from Cas, who is sweating, back of his head resting against the wall, mouth still agape. His hair is messy, eyes half-mast and his wet lips make Dean want to kiss him again but he holds it back. He's tenting, he can feel it, and he knows Cas noticed too… because Cas seems to be having the very same reaction to whatever just happened.

That doesn't stop Dean from feeling the blush creep into his cheeks.

"I think," he says, panting a little himself, catching his breath as he goes to wipe the sweat off his forehead, "that we got rid of them for a while. Don't you agree?"

Cas only moves to nod his head, body resting against the wall, boner still strong. Dean takes that as a yes and decides that he needs to go finish in the bathroom before he comes right there in front of his fake fiancé.

As if it isn't enough that he's bursting out of his pants like the damn Washington Monument already.

Fuck. He is so fucking glad right now that Sam wasn't around to see this crap. Dean wouldn't have lived this down with Sam around to sneer at him about this. Not at all.

 **~o~**

Sam can't find out much about the night that Magda was murdered from scouring the local newspapers alone. They all say the same. No one knows who did it. The culprit was not found. There was no evidence. Nobody saw anything. Yada yada.

Sam knows he can find the culprit if he tries harder, but he's just too mentally and physically tired to do anything right now. The reading, along with the constant throb along his jaw, has given him a bad headache and he can't take it anymore. So he decides to hack Magda's case files from the hotel room rather than the library, once he's taken a couple of Advil.

The scenario in the room, however, is really weird. Dean and Cas are extremely cautious around each other. Dean seems to have changed outfits to a new pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and he's markedly avoiding even the barest minimum of eye contact with Cas, who's sitting quietly at the dining table, staring at his hands.

Sam raises an eyebrow at the two idiots. "Did you fight?" he asks.

Cas looks up from his hands. "No, we did not, Sam." Then, a little more unsure of himself, "Why would you think that?" He meets eyes with Dean, who stops by on his way to the kitchenette and bends over to kiss Cas.

When they have their five minutes, Dean begins to explain. "Frank came over," he says.

"So?"

"He wouldn't leave. Fucking annoying turd."

Sam sighs, drops his bag onto the bed and sits down to pull his shoes off. "Fucking djinns," he mutters. "How'd you get him to go away?"

"We forced him out," Dean replies. "He still has us pissed, though."

"Yeah." Sam pinches the bridge of his nose. "I wish they'd leave us alone already but you two—" He pauses, realising something, as he turns to look at his brother again. "You _forced_ him out?"

"Kinda," Dean says. "Shut him out of the elevator. All that."

"All that." Sam looks at Dean, then Cas again, and thinks about the awkwardness in here. And the fact that Dean changed his pants.

Oh God. Dean changed his fucking pants.

Sam stands up from his bed. "I'm booking another room."

"What?" Dean asks him. "Why?"

"I'm not an idiot. I know how you drove Frank away." Sam tilts his head towards Cas, narrowing his eyes at Dean. "I know you've wanted this a long time, but I'm not watching it happen, Dean."

"Watching what—? No! _Gross!_ " Dean steps back, pure disgust in his face. Too much disgust for Sam to believe him.

"Dean," says Sam, "honestly, _methinks_ _the lady doth protest too much_. You and Cas were cuddling in your underwear last night and I didn't say anything. But now—you changed your fucking pants!"

"Stop being obsessed with my pants, you fucking creep! I'm not protesting _anything_."

"Well, no, it's a saying—"

"I know what that means," Dean snaps at him. He goes on to stand beside Cas. "We didn't do anything like _that_ , okay?

"Like what?"

"Like – like…" Dean goes red, cheeks flushing as he looks away. "Get outta here!"

"Oh, thank God. I can't stand the fucking sexual tension right now," says Sam, going on to grab his bag, but Dean comes over and snatches it out of his hand.

"There's no… _sexual tension_ , okay? Nothing happened. Take your meds and go to sleep."

"Are you fucking serious? Something happened here, Dean. I can _see_ it. Don't lie to me when it's so damn obvious, okay?"

Dean puts his hands on his hips. Behind him, Cas is determinedly not joining the conversation yet and Sam thinks that pretty much seals the deal that something happened between them while he was at the library. This is so stupid and… what can he even tell these two? What is he supposed to say to two grown men who are behaving in the most ridiculous way possible?

As if Sam doesn't have enough problems of his own.

The room is engulfed in silence, noon setting in slowly as everyone in the world goes on with their lives. Everyone, except, Sam thinks, Dean and Cas, because, they seem to have been stuck in the same rut for years.

It's been going on for so long that there was a time Sam thought they were just playing it dumb to keep it a secret from him—their feelings for each other—but no. Dean and Cas are as oblivious as they let on.

Or, to put it better, they are not completely oblivious, but they also don't want to acknowledge it for themselves. At least, Dean doesn't. Sometimes, Sam thinks Cas _knows_ , but won't say. He wishes he could just grab Cas by the shoulders and tell him that it's okay, he can say it, he can say out loud whatever he feels for Dean, but Sam also thinks it might not be his place to tell Cas about it.

It's like a vicious cycle for them, of knowing, not knowing, and barely knowing, and it keeps going on and on like there's no end to it. And isn't that the most painful thing to watch when you care about the people involved.

Sam rubs at his head, the throbbing getting worse with each minute. He needs to get on with his work, and he needs to leave this room for these two to sort it out among themselves. But then he also feels like he just wants to lie down and rest. Like he's drained.

He had no idea he'd be so badly impacted from a routine procedure on his teeth. Dean and Cas had better keep doing whatever it is that they're doing to keep the djinns away and convince them. Sam's not looking forward to having any more dental surgeries if he can help it.

He blinks slowly, setting his bag back down. "You two decide quickly, because I really wanna nap."

"You need to take your meds first," says Dean, "and decide what?"

"If I should get another room. I'm serious," says Sam.

"You can stay here," says Dean. Behind him, Cas finally rises from the table and walks to the window to look outside. Sam watches him place a hand on the window sill, soaking in a single slat of sunrays, as if he's feeling it for the first time.

The lack of windows in the bunker really does things to you.

Sam turns to Dean. "Why do you want me to stay here?" he asks him. "Shouldn't your private life from the djinns be private from me, too?"

"There…" Dean turns to Cas, sighs, then walks over to tap at his shoulder. Cas turns around, and as if it's second nature, kisses him.

Idiots.

Dean comes back, Cas following him. "Sammy," he says, "there's nothing private, okay? And we're banking on you, man. The djinns will know something is wrong. If we're alone and we don't do… stuff…" He looks away, red again. Sam wants to whack him on the head.

"So you obviously did something that required a change of pants to drive Frank away, and you're telling me you don't need a separate room?"

"That was nothing."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "Nothing."

"Nope."

"Do you really have to lie through your teeth for this? I'm not stupid."

"Didn't say you were."

Sam snorts, looking at the two of them being so awkward, denying, when it is clear as day that it wasn't nothing. "You guys are impossible."

Dean doesn't reply. He walks away, leaving Cas in his place, seemingly shell-shocked, and comes back with the orange pill bottles and a granola bar. "Eat and medicate," he says. "I'll wake you up in a couple of hours for a proper lunch. You need rest. You find out anything you needed?"

Sam's stomach growls, making his hunger known, and he accepts the protein bar. He unwraps it as Dean and Cas seat themselves on Dean's bed, shoulders touching. They don't talk to each other. Cas proceeds to pick up one of the books on djinn lore and starts to read while Dean straight up stares at Sam as though making sure that Sam's eating, which he is.

Once Sam's done he reluctantly takes the pills. He doesn't want to have those dreams again, doesn't want to wake up screaming, but his pain is up at a point where he cannot bring it down with Advil alone. He needs the good pills to knock him out for a while and right now, some sleep sounds a whole lot better than persistent pain, even if it means nightmares.

He lies down, Dean helping him with the blankets as he waits for the pills to kick in. He tries to stop thinking, tries to listen to the hustle and bustle outside of the hotel, to Cas turning the pages of the book he's reading. To Dean puttering about in the kitchenette. They help him calm down a whole deal.

The last thing Sam can remember thinking before he gives in to sleep, is that he hopes he's not woken up by whatever it was that Dean and Cas did to drive Frank away. If there's anything worse than a nightmare, it's probably watching your brother do _that_ to your best friend.

 **~o~**

Dean watches Sam fall asleep as he works on clearing the beer bottles from their kitchenette. He doesn't say a word to Cas; doesn't utter a word at all. He just clears his things and thinks.

Thinks of what Sam just said.

Honestly, is Sam serious about that shit? Why on earth does he think so? Is there something that Sam's seeing here that Dean or Cas aren't?

According to Dean, he's been putting on a show for the djinns. Has been putting on a show since yesterday, and he's pretty sure that Cas has been, too. Sure, things got awkward and they've had to do some weird stuff to keep those bastards away, but… Cas knows, right? Cas is aware of this, too? Is Dean missing something here?

Sam punctuates Dean's thoughts with a snore, and Dean smiles to himself, agreeing with his brother. Yes, this is boring, stupid shit. This is also shit that should have been dealt with before Sam started asking questions like…

Before Sam started saying things like he did today.

Dean thinks he owes Cas a serious talk, and that they need to work this out. Just so he and Cas are on the same page. He's sure they are, but then again, Cas is… _Cas_. Not a one-night stand or a fling or a casual friend, and Dean doesn't want to take this for granted.

Even though he's sure that Cas doesn't feel that way.

Pretty sure.

He doesn't, right?

 _"I love you. I love all of you."_

It was meant for everyone. Dean, Sam, their mom. Probably Jack too, now. It was that one time. Cas never said it again. Not even when he had a million opportunities to tell Dean if he felt that way.

Dean fiddles with his phone for a while. Checks messages that aren't there. Putters around the kitchenette, doing nothing. It takes a few minutes for Dean to gather the courage to go back and sit on his bed, beside Cas.

Cas looks up the moment Dean sits down, blinks, and the intensity of his gaze alone has Dean feeling his cheeks warm a little. He bites his lip. "Uh, we need to talk," he says.

Cas tilts his head and Dean nods, leaning forward, so they can kiss.

They must have kissed a hundred times in the last two days alone. It's starting to feel so easy now. Not like the first time when it had been… weird. Now. Now it feels kinda good. Like Dean is going back to something familiar.

Huh. Guess he's getting cheesy. Growing older sure seems to be putting some wild-ass thoughts of settling down into his head. Not that he'd like to settle. Not anytime soon. His life is in hunting, at least for now.

When they separate, Dean takes a deep breath. "Real talk, okay?" he says.

"Of course," Cas replies, putting the book away and giving all his attention to Dean, folding his hands on his lap. "Tell me."

Dean glances at Sam. "I was thinking of what he said."

"About us."

"Yeah, and…" Dean looks away, diverting his eyes to his shoes. "Do you… do you think…why does he think we're lying?"

Cas stays silent. Dean can hear him breathe. Can see the ends of his trenchcoat, hanging down the bed, from the corner of his eyes.

He can't meet Cas's gaze for this. He just can't. And he doesn't know why.

"Dean."

Cas says his name gently, like it's something precious. Dean's heard Cas say his name so many times… but this is different and he isn't sure how.

"Dean." Cas repeats his name. Dean feels Cas's hand on his shoulder, abandons looking at his shoes, and matches gazes with Cas again.

"Yeah."

Cas comes forward to kiss him. Once more. Another five minutes. They could keep doing this in cycles with no answers, but Dean knows that they both need an answer now. Right now.

When they break away, Cas's eyes are earnest and blue like always, but there is a tinge of something else in them. Something Dean can't quite put his finger on. He's just as confused and speechless, though, when the same eyes start to brim over with tears that Dean's seldom seen there. How many times? Maybe once? Twice?

 _I love you. I love all of you._

"Dean," Cas whispers, then smiles.

Dean can't help himself. The tears. Cas saying his name. He doesn't know what to do. He takes Cas's hands in his and squeezes them. Holds on, not breaking his eye contact with Cas.

"Hey," he says, "what happened?"

Cas's lips are trembling even through the smile. A single tear falls down his cheek and Dean's heart almost stops beating. Cas opens his mouth, shuts it, hesitating, then finally says it.

"Dean. I _do_ love you."

 **~o~**

"Magda, take care of yourself."

"Sam, I have to go."

Sam is outside the bathroom again, and Magda goes in.

"I'll be waiting outside," he says. "It's dangerous around these parts."

She smiles at him. "I don't think I'm going to come back out alive."

The door shuts. Gunshots. Sam screams, screams, screams, but when the door opens, there she is, all her life drained away like the dark blood swirling out of her.

She's dead.

She's dead and he can't even wake up.

 **~o~**

Dean's not sure why his ears are ringing, but they are. It's like he's in a dream because he doesn't know how this can all be real. Doesn't know how he couldn't have imagined it.

Cas is still there, still sitting right there after his confession, waiting for an answer that Dean can probably never give him. Because, honestly, now what? What is Dean supposed to say? How is he supposed to tell Cas that no, this was seriously just me doing it for the djinns. I don't feel for you in that way.

 _I love you, but not like you love me._

God, Dean can't even get himself to say it… any of it. How's he supposed to? He's not even… he doesn't even _do_ those talks. This doesn't help matters at all.

Cas is still looking at him. Earnest eyes, hands still folded on his lap, tears gone. Cas waits for Dean to give him an answer. Any answer. But Dean can't lie. Can't lie anymore. Whether it's to Cas or the djinns or to himself. He just can't.

He licks his lips. "Cas." His voice barely comes out.

"Yes." Cas lets out a breath. "Dean, before you say anything… you should know that I don't expect anything from you. Any of it."

"I know, but…"

"I needed you to—" Cas presses his lips together, eyes roving over to a point behind Dean's head. "I needed to tell you. I haven't… it hasn't been easy for me to keep it in."

 _How long?_ Dean wants to ask him, but he can't. He doesn't want to face it.

He knows he's a coward for running away like this but he doesn't know what else to do. How else to face any of it.

He swallows. "You did a good job, though." A huff of laughter. "Of keeping it a secret, I mean. I didn't even know, Cas. Jesus."

"You were not supposed to."

"And now?"

"I think…" Cas looks at his lap and interlocks his fingers, as if in subtle prayer. "I think all of this, it just got overwhelming. This morning… did not help things along. Nor did your proposing marriage to me."

"It's fake," Dean tells him. "Cas, we're doing this for the djinns. It's fake, it's not real, we just need to—"

 _"AHA!"_

Dean is interrupted by a voice, and the voice is so familiar that he doesn't even have to turn around and look. He just knows who it is and it's not good.

Oh. Oh God. Why hadn't he kissed Cas before telling him all this? He hadn't even remembered… and he did not want to aggravate the situation either, but he should have known. Should have just done it.

"I knew it," says Cindy as she walks forward, Frank in tow. Sam's still asleep on the other bed, like he's been for all the major events concerning these djinns until now. Bastard.

Cas takes in a sharp breath, looks away, as if he's not willing to make eye contact with Dean again. Dean on the other hand, gathers his courage and sass.

"What are you going to do?" he asks them. He has the urge to grab Cas's hand, tell him they should run together, but he doesn't.

He's not sure where that urge even came from.

"To you?" Cindy tells Dean. "Nothing. We heard that heartfelt conversation, so we're sparing you your dental expenses. Him, though…" She tilts her head towards Cas. "He comes with us."

Dean stands up, towering over her by several inches but still feeling powerless. "You take him, you take me, too."

She snorts. "I don't think so, Chuckles. Plus, you don't need to pretend anymore. Isn't that great?"

No, it isn't, and Dean isn't sure why. He takes another breath and moves over to stand in front of Cas. "You'll have to go through me anyway," he says.

"Oh, cool," Cindy replies, takes a step forward, and before Dean can stop her she touches Cas, vanishing with him. Just like that, Cas is gone, Cindy is gone, and Dean is alone with Frank and an unconscious Sam, still staring at the spot that Cas had been a moment ago.

"Well, that's that," says Frank, and Dean grits his teeth.

"Bring him back, you asshole."

"All in due time. I gotta go."

"Don't you dare!" Dean goes ahead to stop him, but Frank raises a hand, holding him back. Dean pushes and pushes against the force but he can't move past it, and Frank is only amused at the entire situation.

"You'll get him back," he says. "He'll be with us for a while now. But I gotta say, the show you put on this morning? Impressive. Made me rush out in a tizzy. That was some good acting, Dean. You ought to give us lessons."

The force that's been holding Dean back lets up, and he charges at Frank— "NO!"—only to grab onto thin air when Frank disappears, too. Only to look at the empty space where Cas was, not two minutes ago, and to sink onto the floor, helpless.

 _Fuck._

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking fuckbuckets._

What did he just do?

 **~o~**

"Magda, it's not safe."

"I have to go, Sam."

She's going into the bathroom again. Sam wants to guard her. Protect her. He stands there, hoping to stop it. She can't die. She can't.

She shuts the door behind her. Sam waits a moment. And again. Gunshots. Gunshots as heard with a silencer intact.

The silencer hadn't been there the last time. Sam's eyes go wide. Who is this? Was this a professional killer? Very few hunters bother with silencers. This was a hitman. A planned murder.

Was someone after Magda the whole time? Why? Why would someone possibly want to shoot a child?

The door opens and Sam jumps out of his thoughts, watching. Watching the dark figure emerge, a male-looking figure slinking away into the blackness.

Dressed in all black, the person makes their way to a motorbike. They don't see Sam but Sam strains, hides, and finally catches a glimpse of their face.

That's not even what gives the identity away. It's the tattoo on the back of his palm that says it all.

 **~o~**

Sam wakes up, hyperventilating, to Dean sitting on the bed opposite him, elbows on his knees and head in his arms, in obvious distress. He looks up at Sam, doesn't say anything, and proceeds to scrub a hand down his face, scrutinising Sam.

"Nightmare?" he asks, although from his tone, it doesn't sound like he really wants to know.

Sam can barely breathe. "Dean," he says, "it was Ketch. Ketch killed Magda."

Dean's eyebrows rise, but only slightly. Sam sits up, battles a wave of dizziness, and looks around. There's no sign of Cas. He needs to go to the library and search and—

"Sam."

Dean's voice is low, morose, and Sam stops in his thoughts to pay attention to his obviously miserable brother.

"Dean," he says, "what happened?"

Dean clenches his jaw and looks away for a moment, but when he turns back, the agony in his eyes is double. "They took Cas," he whispers, then goes back to hold his head in his hands. As if it's all his fault.

Sam swallows, and even though he knows the answer, asks, "Who?"

"The djinns," says Dean. "They took him with them and I couldn't stop them." He pauses for a bit, as if looking for words, and Sam sits there, listening. "Before he left," Dean says, and Sam waits, another moment of silence, then two. "Before he left he said…"

"Said what?"

"He said he's in fucking love with me."

There it is. The words that Sam suspected they were holding back from each other (not really, though, now, right? Now that Cas had said it out aloud? This is probably where it all ends). The three little words that Dean and Cas had denied each other, just to remain silent and ignorant and plain stupid. Sam had known it would come out one day, that it would explode in their faces, but he never expected it to be like this.

He's imagined celebrations. Not this scene, of his brother curled in on himself, wondering what went wrong, with neither of them knowing where Cas might be right now.

Sam does the only thing he can think of doing at this point.

He forgets Magda and Ketch, and his anger. He'll get back to that in a bit—once they've got Cas back, because Magda's dead but Cas is not. He gets up and seats himself beside Dean on the bed, and takes a moment before curling an arm around his brother.

"Hey," he says, being as gentle as he can, and it's like déjà vu. Like when Cas was held hostage by Lucifer (they still didn't say it to each other then).

Sam locks eyes with his brother. "We'll get him back, okay? We'll find out where Cas is, and get him back."

Dean doesn't reply in words, so much as he does in actions. So when he leans in to Sam's hug, going ahead to hide his face in his hands, Sam decides that he's content to be here and support his brother for as long as he is needed.


	4. The Journey

**Four: The Journey**

The plan is quick and dirty. Find Cas, get him back, and prepare to kill any djinns in the process, no matter how many dental surgeries might be needed in the aftermath. Crisp, clear, and perfect.

The process of actually executing this plan isn't as quick and dirty, as Sam and Dean realise soon enough.

For starters, they don't know where Cas is. Sure, the djinns took him to Syria, but _where_ in Syria? They never asked Cas where the Tree of Life was, and finding it won't take long, but is he where the Tree is, or is he somewhere else? Syria is a whole country and it's impossible to go searching an entire country.

Not that Dean isn't willing to do that, though.

"You can stay," he tells Sam, stuffing one of his flannels into his duffel. "I'll look for him throughout Syria if I have to. We can't let them take him away like this. Besides, I have a plan that will help me look for him there."

"You can let me in on your plan," says Sam. "He's my friend, too. I'm coming. Why do you think I would want to stay?"

"You've had dental surgery not even two days ago. You don't even take your meds regularly. I—"

"I'm coming with," says Sam, interrupting Dean as he rolls up a pair of his jeans to put into his own backpack. "I'll be fine."

"I'm serious," Dean replies, and he stops midway through zipping up his duffel to face Sam. "You come with, you take your meds."

"Dean, they give me fucking nightmares."

"Then rest! You can't be running about with that and not take your meds, Sam. You gotta give yourself time to recover."

Sam feels the anger rise in him. He clenches his fists and turns away. He doesn't know what to tell Dean. How to make Dean understand. _Jesus_ , he knows he needs to rest, and that he needs to give himself time. Knows this better than Dean. He's had it with Dean trying to tell him what's good for him, as if Sam's a small child who needs to be mothered.

Even Mom isn't like this, and she's their _actual_ mom. Granted, they hadn't had a typical mother-son relationship in the year Sam's known her, but he's sure she's better than this.

Keeping in view that Dean's actually upset about something right now, Sam decides to stay quiet and not burst out at his brother. He'll deal with this once they get Cas back.

Dean is due for a big telling-off for all the bullshit he's pulled with Sam, and now, even Cas.

Sam finishes packing his things and helps haul their stuff to the car, silence between him and Dean thick with the tension of missing Cas. He waits for them to check out and for Dean to get them on the road before he talks, keeping his frustrations in check.

"Dean," he says, "I'll take the meds."

"Good," Dean replies. "They're in the backseat."

"No, wait," says Sam, "listen to me."

"What is it?"

"I can't take the pain meds while we're trying to look for Cas. I can't—" He swallows. "I just can't have another nightmare right now, okay?"

Dean sighs, eyes unmoving from the road. They're exiting Dallas and the sun's setting already, marking the end of another day. Another day that seemed to start relatively all right but is finishing with them running like chickens with their heads cut off.

Their life is truly a joke.

Sam watches an orange ray from the sun colour his brother's face and chooses his words carefully. "I will take the antibiotics but not the pain meds. I need to be alert while we're looking for Cas."

"I get that." Dean turns to him briefly, half-orange and half-himself. "But once we've found him, deal's a deal, okay? You rest. No hunts for a week."

Sam snorts. "Because I had dental surgery?"

"Yes."

"What about Magda?"

"We'll do something about it. I promise."

Sam doesn't know if he's comforted by that, but he's glad Dean's putting himself into the equation when it comes to dealing with Magda's murder.

"Look Sam," says Dean, "she was a kid and whoever killed her—"

"Ketch."

"Ketch?"

"Didn't you listen to me when I told you?"

Dean hums, tapping his fingers twice against the wheel, and Sam realises that he really hadn't been listening.

 _Why would you think you aren't in love with Cas, Dean?_

"We'll find Ketch then," says Dean. "Catch that rat from wherever he's hiding. Promise."

Sam rests his forehead against the cool glass window and nods. He knows Dean won't go back on this and is grateful to have his brother's help, but that doesn't stop him from being tired.

So, so tired. Of this. Of everything. Of Mom and Jack missing, and now Cas. Of their lives never being right.

Of not having a moment to smile.

The sun continues to set and Dean continues to drive. Like it's another day out of their weird, horrible lives, which in fact it is. Searching the whole of Syria for Cas is actually not as bad as when they'd had to get him back from Lucifer so Sam reckons he shouldn't be complaining.

Just another day in their lives.

Sam doesn't realise when his thoughts drift him off into peaceful slumber, this one, thankfully, devoid of nightmares.

 **~o~**

Dean doesn't disturb Sam until they reach one of Bobby's contacts, Selwyn, for their travel documents. Even then he is loath to wake his brother up because Sam seems to be peacefully sleeping for once, but Dean's gotta do what he's gotta do, so he goes ahead and shakes Sam's shoulder.

Sam sits up with a start.

"We're here," Dean tells him. "You still sure you want to come with?"

"Of course, Dean."

Dean doesn't tell him how much he appreciates it. How much he doesn't want to so much as sit in an airplane, face Cas after the crap he pulled (Cas had tears in his eyes, _Jesus_ ), or even face the djinns, really, much less do all of these things _alone_. But he can't leave Cas there, and he'd have gone whether or not Sam came with. And fuck, if the djinns could see him now. Proving his engagement to Cas by travelling across oceans and searching a whole country for the dude.

He would do it even if Cas weren't his fake fiancé, even if he didn't have to prove it to anyone, and he'll do it again, a million times, for Cas.

Dean just wants Cas the fuck back. He wants Cas the fuck back _right now_.

 **~o~**

"Ameer. I wanted to offer you water."

Cas stares at Frank and seriously considers pulling a Dean and giving him the finger. The fact that he is an angel in another supernatural being's world stops him. He thinks of the dignity he has to maintain, and while he wishes he could tell Frank just where he can screw himself right now, he has to stop himself and curse internally.

The djinns brought him to a plush room with velvet interiors, in a palace in what he can only guess as Syria. He doesn't know where in Syria, which part, or anything else, and he finds it very disorienting.

He pushes the glass away. "I don't need your water, Frank."

Frank takes it back, then nods at Cas. "I'm just being good," he says. "We did hear your conversation with Dean, you know. In the end."

"And?"

"I'm sorry. Malika Aaliyah would never be that disrespectful with you. Or anyone, for that matter. She is one of the best."

Cas clenches his jaw and takes in a sharp breath. "Do you think _you_ are being good to me by holding me hostage like this?"

"We're not holding you hostage."

"Then let me go."

"To the man who can't even love you back?"

Cas acts before he can think. He grabs Frank by the collar, the glass falling from the djinn's hand and spilling water all over the carpeted floor and Cas's shoes. Cas pulls him closer. "You know nothing about Dean," he says. "You never will. You heard one conversation between us, and that does not give you the right to judge."

Frank smirks, and Cas feels like wringing his neck.

"You can use your violence upon me, Ameer," he says, "but we both know that he does not love you. And the way you still praise him…" Frank shakes his head. "You know what? He could be as virtuous as a god, but really, he still doesn't feel for you like you feel for him. Isn't that true?"

Cas lets him go. "I don't believe that's any of your business. I do not need you or your queen to sympathise."

"The queen doesn't know," says Frank, smoothing down his shirt.

"Then why did you bring me here?"

"I think we told you in the beginning. We cannot tolerate disloyalty towards her."

Cas narrows his eyes. "So what authorises you to make these decisions for her? To decide how she should feel about these things? Do you really think she doesn't know the marriage between us is just a deal?"

"She does," says Frank, "but we're tired of people like you taking advantage of the fact that she is forgiving."

"She isn't tired, but you are," says Cas. "I see."

Frank bends over and picks up the fallen glass from the floor. "If someone's unfair to Dean, would you be all right with it?"

"No, but I also respect Dean's decision-making skills." Cas swallows. "I've made mistakes in the past, trying to help him when he clearly did not need me intervening and deciding for him. He's done it for Sam and me, as well. But unlike you, we learn our lessons."

Frank doesn't reply. He walks to the door and places a hand on the handle. Then, turning around to face Cas, he says, "It's funny how you all think you have learned your lessons, Ameer, when in fact, you all bend over backwards and stretch your own limits for each other."

"What do you mean?"

"Dean's just boarded a plane," says Frank. "He's coming here, looking for you."

Something warm lights up in Cas's chest. "H-How do you know?"

"We watch everything, remember?" says Frank. "And we'll wait for him, too. Malika Aaliyah, when we tell her, and all of us. Don't worry."

As Cas watches Frank leave, all he can do is try and convince himself not to get too excited, to stay calm, because Dean would do this whether or not he knew about what Cas feels for him, and even if this means that Cas can't hope, he is convinced that he fell in love with the right man.

A man who brings him pride, joy, and hope every single time.

 **~o~**

Selwyn hooks Dean up with visas for him and Sam so they can get to Beirut, Lebanon, by the earliest available flight, which is early tomorrow morning. From there they need to drive, and Dean thinks they should go to Damascus first because that's where the Tree is most likely to be. The visas for Syria are a little difficult, Selwyn tells them, but he is sure he can get those done, too.

 _"Usually,"_ the man says on the phone as Dean's heart races, wondering if he can get to Cas, _"you gotta get a recommendation from someone in Syria. For a visa."_ He pauses, and Dean's holding the phone to his ear, desperate. He'll crawl into Syria to bring Cas back if that's what he's gotta do, but he doesn't say that.

 _"Even then it takes a good nine or ten days,"_ says Selwyn. _"But I've got a guy who can hook us up with the visas now. Send me the name of your motel and the address. You'll have the documents in the morning."_

Dean is a lot more relaxed after that conversation.

They take up a motel room to get some rest, eat dinner, and Dean finds a safe place for the Impala until they return. In the morning, Sam finds an envelope at their doorstep with the visas. They put them with their passports and don't talk much as they check on whether they're packed for the trip. Then they take a cab to the airport, Dean pissed about the fact that they have to get there hours in advance.

He's really not comfortable leaving Baby here while he's away, but Cas.

 _But Cas._

They wait in line for check-in, not a word between them. Dean watches Sam rub his jaw over and over, and knows his brother is in pain. He pushes their luggage cart further up the line and turns to his brother. "You still sure that you don't need any meds for the pain?"

"Positive," says Sam. "Line's moved again."

Dean pushes the cart, takes two steps. "What did you take?"

"Advil. It'll do."

A woman announces over the PA system that the flight to London is starting security check. People hug family members, parents and children rush about to get to their holiday destination, students going out to study and businesspeople sit about alone, their faces showing purpose. The hustle and bustle keeps up, dissolving into white noise for Dean as he and Sam wait in line.

They eventually reach a check-in desk and get their stuff into the belt. Sam collects their boarding passes and hands Dean his and they head off to security and immigration, a couple of hours still before boarding.

"Dean," says Sam, breaking the silence between them as he shoulders his backpack, "what are you gonna say to Cas?"

"About what?"

"About…" Sam flashes Dean a bitchface. "You know very well what I'm talking about."

Dean shrugs. "You wanna know what I'll tell him after rescuing his ass? Maybe I'll say, _you're welcome._ "

"Come on, I'm serious."

"Me too."

"Okay." Sam stops in his tracks. Dean walks ahead for a moment, then realises that his brother isn't with him, and turns back.

"Sammy, really?"

"Yeah. We gotta talk about this."

"Now?"

"Yes, Dean. _Now_. Before you actually meet Cas. I know you won't want to talk on the plane. And when we get there we're not gonna have time. So now."

Dean puts his bag down and folds his arms. "I don't know, Sam," he says, "what do you tell someone who confesses love to you, when you don't feel the same about them?"

"You sure you don't feel the same about him?"

"No, I don't! Jesus!"

"Okay." Sam raises a hand. "You don't need to get worked up. Let's go."

"Are you sure?" Dean asks him. "Do you want to ask me anything else about how I'm gonna handle this clusterfuck? What I'm gonna tell Jack and Mom, maybe?"

Sam rolls his eyes. "Don't be dramatic. Let's haul ass."

"Yeah. Sure. _I'm_ dramatic."

Sam goes ahead to pick up Dean's bag as well, and Dean follows after him. "Dude! Wait!"

"Let's immigrate and board," says Sam, when Dean catches up with him. "I'm not asking you any more questions, okay?"

Dean nods. "Good. Let's go."

"Good?"

"Good."

Sam sighs. "Dean, man. You're impossible." He moves on ahead, Dean at his heels, and true to his word, he doesn't talk about it at all.

Dean kinda wishes after that, that Sam had kept asking a few more questions. Because, honestly? Sam might be a pain in the ass, but Dean… he needs the answers to those questions, as well. What's he going to tell Cas? The djinns?

He doesn't even really know what he feels. He doesn't know if it's the same as what Cas confessed.

It's been so long since Dean has thought that way of someone. _Anyone_. Much less a dude. And sure, he's known a few years… he reckons he should have guessed earlier that he was bi when his first crush was Kenny Serkis and not Angela Lahey (despite what he told people, she was his second). But the last few years… ever since Purgatory, he'd _known_.

He's a little surprised that this stuff's not a revelation to Sam. He's gotta give his brother credit for that. Dude understands. He always knows. Just like Dean knows Sam. And just because of that—the fact that Sam knows Dean, Dean wishes they hadn't fought. Since maybe, just _maybe_ , he needs his brother's help to find the answers to all those questions that Sam had asked, because he really fucking doesn't know what he's going to do next, except get to Syria, rescue Cas, and bring him back.

It's a plan, the only plan in his head right now, and sadly, it's not even solid.

 **~o~**

"Ameer, Malika Aaliyah will see you now."

Cas gets up from his sofa and folds his arms in front of Cindy and Frank. "What does she want?"

"To talk."

"Are you two going to be monitoring this conversation?"

"Yes. The whole djinn court will be there."

"Then I would like to talk to her in the presence of my fiancé," says Cas. Behind him, the clock strikes midnight and chimes, the tone a mixture of melody and annoyance. The clock's been making noise for every hour of the day and Cas has learned to partially ignore it in the last few hours that he's been here.

"You should tell your queen," he says to the djinns. "About the fact that I want Dean here. Surely, she will understand."

Cindy sighs and rolls her eyes. "Okay, that's it," she says. "We've put up with enough from you and your two human lackeys. They are on their way here. We'll give you time until then. You can come clean to the Malika about your disrespect, or we will wait and do this the hard way."

Cas sits back down, settles against a dark velvet cushion. "What has the queen said? About all of this? Holding me hostage here, causing Sam trouble, and now, this threat that you're giving out, about hurting Sam and Dean? Did you tell her yet?"

"We will," says Frank, "and she will agree with what we did."

"If you think that," Cas replies, "you don't know her at all, and I would like to be present at the time of the revelations to her. It would greatly amuse me to see this unfold. I have not been entertained in a while."

If either Frank or Cindy wanted to react to that, they seem to exercise a lot of self-control because they are both out of the room the next moment, leaving Cas to himself and his thoughts.

 **~o~**

"So you gonna be pissed at me throughout this whole flight, or are you even gonna talk?"

Dean watches Sam wordlessly stab at his chicken, bitchface intact, and takes a few deep breaths when the airplane shakes a little. He'd refused food to escape having to use any of the puke bags. He doesn't need that shit right now. He's barely keeping himself from going out of his mind as it is.

Sam accepted his food a few minutes ago. He didn't talk to Dean after their conversation at the airport, and he's stubborn about maintaining his silence ever since. Dean has had to have high levels of self-restraint to keep himself from rolling his eyes or letting Sam know just how ridiculous this is.

He keeps his mouth shut, holding on tight to his armrest every time there is turbulence, and sometimes, though he's loathe to even admit it to himself, _sometimes_ he wishes that Sam would… just talk.

This has been weird and hard, and now it's even harder. For some reason Dean's successfully pissed off one of the two important idiots in his life, as if he can so peacefully afford to do that, which he can't.

He plugs in his earphones to look at the in-flight entertainment and Sam finishes eating at some point. The steward comes to collect the plates, Dean asks for water, sips on it, and they keep going on with that oppressive silence…

… until Dean can't take it anymore. He's been watching Sam pretend to sleep for half an hour, and it's the most ridiculous thing he's seen, so it all comes bursting out.

"Sam," Dean calls out, taking off his earphones. "Sam, I know you're not asleep. And you're going to tell me why you're so pissed."

Sam doesn't reply. His eyelids flutter and he changes position. The lights in the cabin dim down, the last of the beverage carts gone, and Dean lets out an exasperated sigh.

"I'll tickle you," he says. "Wake up, bitch, or it's back to me being eight and you being four again."

Sam doesn't respond. Dean shakes his head. "Fine," he says, "you made me do this. You should know that." He raises his hand to poke Sam on the ribs, poised to begin the war—when it happens: the fucking miracle.

Sam opens his eyes and pushes Dean's hand away. "Get off me."

"Then talk to me."

"No."

"Fine—"

Dean's back at it with his finger and Sam pushes him away again.

"Sammy."

"Fine!" he says. "Fine! You know what? You're a fucking asshole and you've been in fucking love with him for so long, everyone knows except for you. Somehow you don't, and that makes you a fucking moron. You happy now?" His nostrils flare and Dean takes his hand back.

"No," he says, "of course I'm not fucking happy. What the fuck are you talking about?"

Sam clenches his jaw, peeks out of the window for a brief moment. "Do we need to go through with this?"

"Yes, Sammy, we do."

"Then you'd better be glad we have a while to get there because it looks like this is gonna take you some time."

"Bring it on."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, man."

Sam takes a breath and wiggles in his seat, settling in. "You remember last year?"

Dean raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, but you gotta be specific about which part you want me to remember."

"The time we went to hunt Ramiel."

"Ah, the classics—"

"Shut up, Dean, I'm talking."

Dean stretches his legs underneath the seat before him, a mild storm rising in his chest. He swallows to quell it. He remembers a lot of things that happened that day.

 _I love you._

Too many.

 _I love all of you._

"Cas pretty much said it then," says Sam. "You remember?"

Dean nods, but looks away. "That," he says, knowing his argument is weak, "was for all of us."

"I don't think so. Neither did Mom."

"Mom told you—?"

"It doesn't matter," snaps Sam. "Listen to me. It was obvious, okay? I don't know how you didn't think anything of it."

Dean shrugs. "I… didn't. I don't know what to say."

"Not even a little?" Sam asks him. "Didn't you want to know what it meant?"

"Coming from a dude? Not really. Now, if it was a chick—"

"Dean, please quit with that argument of yours because I _know_ ," Sam interrupts him. "I know a lot more than you think I do. It's okay if you don't want to tell me, because it's _for_ you, and it's _about_ you. But…" he looks down at his hands, fidgeting with his fingers, "I… I wouldn't judge."

Dean's breath stops in his throat. Sam's not looking at him and Dean clears his voice, grabbing his water bottle from the seat pocket to give himself something to do. He bites his lip. He knows Sam, and he trusts him with more than his whole life. But… now is not the time.

Sam would never force Dean to talk about it, and Dean is sure of that. But to outright admit to… to what? Admit to nothing. They're not talking about this on a flight to Lebanon of all places.

What _would_ be the right time and place? Dean isn't sure. It's just not _now_. Not here, and not today. Sam knows, and Sam's known… for a while, Dean thinks, but this is too big a deal for him. Maybe… maybe some other day when he's happier and Cas is around and things are not like this.

Cas.

 _I love you._

Dean doesn't know where he finds the energy or the will. He clears his throat again— _feels like there's something stuck there_ —and he scratches his head.

"Sam," he says at long last and Sam's right beside him, watching and listening and _there_. "Sammy, you're – uh, you're right. And… I don't—" His voice breaks, strung tight. "I'm not ready," he whispers.

He doesn't know _how_ he's not ready. It's not who he is. He's Dean Winchester and this isn't supposed to be a big deal. He hunts ghosts for a living, he's been a demon, and he's been to Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory and fought Lucifer himself.

How can he not be ready for something like this?

"Dean," Sam whispers, leaning a little closer. "You know that's okay, right? Not being ready?"

"'M not sure," Dean mumbles, putting his face in his hands. "I don't know, Sammy."

"Well," says Sam, "as someone who wasn't ready for Jess's death, or Dad's, or yours, or…" He takes a shuddering breath, "or anything, really, I can tell you that it's okay. To not be ready. You're allowed to breathe. To take your time. I know I was hard on you about Cas, and maybe I should've backed off, but you don't have to tell me anything. Ever. It's okay."

Dean nods vigorously, face still in his hands. He doesn't think he needs to remind Sam that his not being ready is what led to this massive fuck-up in the first place… but he doesn't know. Not really. What exactly is he supposed to feel?

Sam doesn't talk further, but his clothes rustle as he shifts in his seat. The seatbelt signs ping on, Dean hears people snap them into place, and the flight moves on to their destination and Sam's arm settles around Dean.

Dean leans into it, savouring the warmth and support and once again, feeling shitty about himself. He really screwed this up for himself and for Cas. And he doesn't know how to make it all better.

He lifts his face off the shelter of his palms and moves over to rub at his eyes. Sam still has his arm around him and Dean remembers all the nightmares his brother's been having, and the fact that he's refusing pain meds to keep those away. Plus, Magda. She's dead. That poor kid is dead, and Sam's obviously not taking that well either.

So Dean turns to his brother and looks at him, at his worn-out face. "Your turn," he says.

"For what?"

"Come on," Dean coaxes him. "This was the chick-flick moment you've been fishing for and it's finally here, Sammy. On this damn plane to Lebanon."

Sam smirks. "You're flying _and_ willing to have a heart-to-heart. You're being brave today, Dean."

The plane decides to shake a little right then as turbulence hits them, and Dean feels his stomach drop. "Shut up."

"You're pale."

"Of course I am, it _shook_."

"It's just turbulence, dude, everything's fine."

"I'd say that if we were talking about the turbulence of your hair, but—"

Sam smacks Dean's arm with the back of his palm. "Fuck off." He moves back in his seat and yawns, raising a long arm to switch off the reading light above him. Dean knows he's going to pretend to sleep again but that's not happening until they finish this talk.

"Sammy," he calls out, but Sam turns away from him, snuggling into his thin, aircraft-quality blanket.

Dean presses his lips together. "You can't fall asleep that fast. Stop pretending." He moves ahead to shake his brother but Sam swats at Dean's hand.

"Go away, I'm tired."

"Tired?" Dean asks him. "Damn cat is what you are. Doing the paw thing and all." He pauses, swallows, and tries again. "Hey, but I know this has been bothering you," he says, "and I wanna know if I can help."

Sam turns to him, looking from underneath his blanket. "Can you bring her back to life?"

"I wish."

"Then you can't help." Sam's on his way to hide himself again, but Dean puts a hand on his shoulder.

"I know it's hard for you," he says, not even trying to turn Sam around this time. "I know it's not fair that she died. That Ketch killed her. Believe me, the next time I see that bastard—"

"She deserved another chance," says Sam, interrupting Dean, turning to him with shining eyes. "She never hurt anyone on purpose. She was trying to figure it out. She was good. It wasn't even like Max or Ava, or…" Sam takes in a sharp breath, "… or _me_."

Dean opens his mouth to tell Sam that he's good, too, but Sam raises a hand to stop him. "I made some bad decisions and I was way older than she was when I did that. And I was trying to figure things out too, but I got my second chance… and then some more."

"You deserved it."

"And Magda didn't?"

"Of course she did," replies Dean, "and what happened to her is not okay in any fucking way, but that doesn't change anything about you and the fact that every damn chance you got, you fucking earned those, man."

"And what makes me so special?"

Dean shrugs. "Maybe she was as special as you are, but life ain't always fair, remember? Plus you've never had it easy either. Don't you think? All that crap's come with a price, Sam. You know it."

Sam looks like he wants to say something more, but he doesn't. Dean keeps himself turned towards his brother, waiting for another argument, but Sam doesn't proceed.

Dean runs a tongue over the corner of his mouth. "I hate what happened to Magda," he says, "but I'm never not going to be thankful that you made it, and that you're here and coming with me to Syria to go look for a nerdy little dude, okay?"

"Okay," Sam whispers. He blinks, and he blinks again, a little rapidly, and Dean realises with a pang that he's holding back tears. He pretends to look away and bends over to do his shoelaces, and from the corner of his eyes he can see Sam swipe at his cheeks, a sniff or two, but when Dean gets back up, it's like none of that happened.

"Sammy," he says, "you okay?"

"Yeah," says Sam, voice gruff. "I'll be all right."

"Good. Now let's go get Cas, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"And we'll get back at Ketch once we're back home."

Sam nods, and Dean hesitates, then rests his palm on the back of Sam's neck, squeezing it lightly. "We can get shawarma after," he says. "Once Cas is with us."

"Like the Avengers?"

"Exactly like the Avengers."

Sam snorts, and huddles into his blanket, pulling it over his head. "Go to sleep," he says. "I'm gonna get some rest too."

"On this plane? No chance."

"We have a bit of a drive from Beirut to Damascus, and more, if Cas isn't actually in Damascus. So you need to rest."

"I know."

"Will you at least try?" Sam asks him. "To sleep?"

"I will."

"Okay. Good night, idiot."

Dean snorts at him. "Good night to you too, asshole."


	5. Aaliyah

**Five: Aaliyah**

By the time they've landed in Beirut, Sam's really proud of Dean for two reasons. One, because he knows it wasn't easy for Dean to have the talk that they did on their way here, and two, because Dean did not need a single puke bag, only whimpered a few times during turbulence, and he actually tried to sleep towards the last leg of the journey and almost succeeded. It's a big step up from the time they flew to Scotland, or even that time with the demon plane.

When they rent a car, Sam offers to drive and for once, Dean obliges, reclining the passenger seat and wearing his sunglasses, letting Sam take the wheel. "You wake me up if there's anything," he says. "I'm gonna take a nap."

"Sure," says Sam, "you rest up."

That's the last bit of conversation they have before Sam pulls the car into the road, and within a few minutes, Dean's asleep in the passenger seat. Sam drives on, pushing his own sunglasses up the bridge of his nose as he glances at the GPS system, consulting the route they need to take to collect the djinn-fighting equipment that Selwyn has arranged for them.

The streets of Beirut are full of cars and people, and Sam, who once upon a time would have wanted to stop and take a good look at the culture, finds himself speeding through the roads as much as he can. He still hopes they'll come back this way once they find Cas so they can do all of those things.

His mind wanders, once again, to Magda, and his and Dean's conversation on the flight. During times like this, Sam's really glad he has his brother. Sometimes Dean can be hard to handle but today his presence really helped. It's so good when they're in sync and agreeing with everything. He really hates fighting with Dean about anything, big or small, and it's good to know he has family by his side.

He wipes sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand and cranks up the air conditioning. It's well past noon here and though the weather's not all that different from Kansas, all the coffees that Sam had before, during, and after their flight seem to be catching up with him now. A mild headache is starting up, along with the irritating, familiar pain in his jaw.

Sam tries not to clench his jaw to quell the discomfort there, because he knows it won't help. He takes a few measured breaths and wishes just about now that Dean was awake and here to take Sam's mind off all this for a bit.

Dean's still snoring when Sam stops for the weapons. It isn't much, just lamb's blood and some specialised bullets having the same effect as lamb's blood. Sam gathers his and Dean's gun licenses and keeps them in the glove compartment with them. There are several military checkpoints at Syria, and they don't want to get into any trouble in case their guns are found out.

Sam can't lie that the travelling has really tired him out. He can't wait to reunite his idiot brother with his idiot brother's idiot boyfriend and go to bed for a long, long time, preferably with no dreams or nightmares this time. And maybe kill Ketch, too. He tries to block out his thoughts, cranks up the music as much as he can without disturbing Dean, and when they're finally approaching the Syrian border, decides to wake Dean up.

"Dean." He palms his brother's shoulder, and Dean sits up with a start.

"Wha—?"

"We're at the border."

Dean takes off his sunglasses and rubs at his eyes, yawning. "Okay," he says, once he's finished. "Gimme my passport and visa."

Sam gestures to the glove compartment. "All there."

Dean opens it, then shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "Let's stop at a gas station after. I gotta pee."

"Okay."

"You got any plans about locating the Tree?" Dean asks him as they approach the border crossing. It's not huge or full of cars; it's a greeting in Arabic, the Syrian flag, and a couple of booths. It's like a pang of relief for Sam, reaching the border, because even though they have a long way to go from here, at least they're somewhere. Even in Damascus, they have no idea where to look for the Tree or for the djinns, or whom to ask, but that's okay as long as they're actively looking.

Sam drives them towards a booth, rubbing off some more forehead sweat with the heel of his palm, shaking his head. "I thought _you_ had a plan."

"I do."

"What is it?"

"We gotta get Cas. Search the country. Starting with this Tree."

"Yeah, but…" Sam runs a frustrated hand through his hair. "How?"

Dean shrugs. "I don't know. It looked easy in the movies." They pull over at the booth and Sam gestures for their travel documents, handing them to the officers. He can't believe _this_ is Dean's plan. He knows this was all impromptu, but he'd actually (stupidly) thought that Dean had actually thought of something when he said he knew what to do.

Apparently, that hasn't happened.

Dean's inability to come to terms with his romantic feelings for Cas is screwing them over and Sam's having none of it today. Not with this stupid toothache that's started up again.

He turns to his brother. "Listen, Dean, you've got an hour to—"

"Dean Winchester."

Sam's cut short by the immigration officer calling out to Dean. Dean gets out, talks to the man, gets his documents verified and stamped, and then it's Sam's turn. He's back in the car, watching Dean consult his map, and he barely reigns in his frustration.

"We have to have a plan," he says to Dean. "I get that flying to look for your boyfriend in a warzone seems awesome in the movies, but we need a fucking plan, Dean."

"And how come you didn't think of it?" Dean snaps at him, as Sam pulls the car back into the road. "He's your friend too."

"You told me you had an idea!" Sam hissed at him. "I trusted that you had one."

"Yeah, it was to look for Cas," Dean replies. He takes off his sunglasses and drags a hand down his face. "We'll search Damascus—"

"You think looking in Damascus is easy? How are we going to find him, Dean? He's one person in this whole damn country and the Tree of Life is one fucking tree! How are we going to locate any of this?" Sam's beginning to lowkey panic now, a combination of frustration, pain, and anxiety finally getting to him.

"Hey, look, calm down," Dean says. "I have a way—"

"You said that the other day when they took him. When we got our tickets. Before we got here. But that's not how we can do it, Dean, what don't you get about this? We need to at least shortlist some of the locations we have to search—find some contacts, oh God—" Sam presses his palm to his forehead, one hand still on the wheel.

Beside him, Dean's looking at the map again, and Sam doesn't _get_ how he's still so calm. He drives on to Damascus, wondering why he left all of this to Dean, and thinking he made a big mistake by not even asking his brother what he proposed to do after they landed, when Dean talks.

"Look," he says, "this country is divided into governorates, districts, and sub-districts. We'll cover some of the main districts, okay? We'll go to Damascus first. The city. It's also apparently a whole governorate. We look at some of the mystical shops and religious places there and ask the people, and we'll go on from there. That sound good?"

Sam takes a deep breath, and nods. "Okay," he says, "better. We can do that."

"Damn straight we can. Cas ain't going anywhere without us."

Sam smirks. "Without you, you mean."

"Yeah, he's waiting for me to save his ass. Idiot won't even hurt the djinns."

"He can't have any more bad vibes with the queen, remember," says Sam. "Do you think he knows you flew here to find him? The djinns would know and tell him something, right?"

"No idea," says Dean. "If he does, he'd better be proud of me."

Sam snorts. "I'm sure he will be, Dean. I'm sure he will be."

 **~o~**

"Malika Aaliyah has arrived."

Cas looks up from his couch. "Yes, and I told you before that I would like to be with my fiancé when I speak to her. So what do you want?"

Frank smirks from the doorway. "Don't worry, your fake fiancé is catching up, too. They've lost their way a little bit, but if they keep getting colder, Cindy and I will lead them here." He exits the room, locking the door behind him and leaving Cas alone with his thoughts again.

Cas hasn't used the bed or drank the water or the coffee. He's not in the mood. He just wants to speak to the Queen, get out of here, find Sam and Dean, and go back home. If they flew in, he's sure they've landed by now, and he wonders where they are. The palace, where he is currently being held, is near the Tree of Life, which is in Aleppo. He thinks they might have gone to Damascus first, and he wishes he could communicate with them. Unfortunately, Frank and Cindy took away his phone and there is nothing he can do about it.

He is reminded of the princesses in the fairy tales that he'd read, that humans tell each other. All of them typically wait for their princes in deep slumbers or towers or in some similarly pitiful situations. He thinks the stories are pretty sexist, but they also seem terribly similar to what he's experiencing right now.

He just hopes Dean will arrive soon so this drama can end as soon as possible.

 **~o~**

At the end of the day of searching Damascus, its mosques, and its mystic shops, Sam's not sure who's in more pain—him, or Dean. While Sam's jaw aches relentlessly, his stomach churning with the accompanying headache, Dean seems to be experiencing a whole lot of heartache.

He'd quieted by sunset—his belief in his own plans having subsided by a considerable amount. There is no clue as to where Cas or the Tree might be, and he thinks they made a big mistake not taking the time to ask Cas the exact location of the Tree.

Anyway, it's not in Damascus, and they're sure of that much.

 _Where next?_ Sam's afraid to ask Dean that when they settle into a motel room for the night. Dean makes a food run and gets Sam some soup, while he gets himself a sandwich. They eat in tense silence, Sam watching the lights from the Vacancy sign right outside of their room flash on his brother's face. Dean looks a million years older than he is, and it's like Cas is taken by Lucifer again.

Except, this is better, Sam has to remind himself. This is much, much better.

When dinner is over, Dean excuses himself to the bathroom and once he's done, he settles into bed without talking to Sam. Sam takes care of his own business and considers a painkiller, but the prospect of nightmares and another long day all mixed together make him feel worse. He takes two Advil and settles into bed, arms folded underneath his head, staring at the shapes of light on their ceiling.

He's still blinking up at the lights about half an hour later. Dean's been silent all this while, and Sam knows he's awake too, but he doesn't prod. He doesn't speak until his brother grunts, his sheets rustling as he sits up in his bed.

"Dean?" Sam asks, waiting for an answer.

He can see his brother's silhouette, and Dean's buried his face in his hands again. Sam sits up too, and decides to talk to him. He moves over to his brother's bed, but his heart almost stops when he sees that Dean's shoulders are shaking.

That's when he hears the sniffles. And the quiet sobs.

"Jesus, Dean—" Sam switches on the lamp, unable to decide what to say as he rushes back to his brother's side. "Hey," he says, sitting on Dean's bed, hand hovering over his brother's back. "We'll get him back."

Dean nods, sniffs, and replies in a muffled voice, "Go back to sleep. 'M okay."

Sam snorts. "Sure you are." He regrets the jibe a moment later. "Hey," he says, "can I help? Is there anything I can do?" He finally settles his hand on Dean's shoulder. "I'm sure he's okay. The djinns would never harm their Prince."

Dean nods, coughs, and there's another sob. Sam deflates, not knowing what to do or how to console his brother. He doesn't want to go to sleep knowing Dean's like this, and he doesn't know if there's anything he can even do.

He sits there, hand still on his brother's shoulder, waiting for him to calm down. He thinks Dean would prefer silence to words right now, so he doesn't talk further. He just stays there. The lights continue to flash in, and Sam thinks he should get up and close the curtains, but he's loath to leave his brother like this even for a moment.

Eventually Dean wipes his eyes and looks up. He doesn't say anything about Sam being there. Just sniffs and throws his blankets off him, muttering something about the bathroom. Sam moves away and Dean gets up, only to take a step towards the bathroom and gasp. "Sam."

His voice is nasal and wrecked. Sam walks up to him. "Yeah?"

Dean points to the wall opposite them, at a picture. "Did you see that? Was that there all this time?"

Sam squints at it in the sparse lighting of the room. It's a picture of a tree. It's small and it seems to just have been stuck there hurriedly by someone, with writing underneath, in both Arabic and English.

 _The Tree of Life, Aleppo._

He doesn't know if this picture existed when they came in, and why nobody in the town knew about it, but he listens when Dean speaks again.

"Check how long it'd take us to get there. I'm gonna be right back," he says.

Sam nods and pulls out his phone, typing their destination into the GPS. About five hours, it says, and when the toilet flushes and Dean comes back, Sam communicates the same to him.

"Fine," Dean replies, grabbing his duffel. "Pack up. I'll get us there in three."

 **~o~**

Behind them, unknown to either Dean or Sam as they leave their motel room, Frank watches them load their car and pull off to Aleppo, to the palace, with a grin on his face. Cindy appears next to him, arms folded.

"You helped them," she says.

"Of course I did. The poor bastard was bawling his eyes out. Wait until the Ameer hears of this."

"He was serious. He's serious about getting Ameer Castiel back."

"Yeah, and it's going to be fun when they find us. We can hand them both over to Malika Aaliyah."

Cindy seems hesitant, but she nods. "Yeah, the Malika would like that. I think."

Frank decides not to ask her why she's so unsure about the whole thing. He strips the picture off the wall and heads back to the palace, because there is no way that he's missing all the drama that's about to happen soon. Really soon, if the Winchesters stick to his directions and come see them.

 **~o~**

Cas is not sure if his "official attire" is a prank, because Frank, Cindy, and the other djinns seem to be dressed like any other American people, and he is at least half sure that the queen doesn't care that he's in a trenchcoat. He studies the clothes laid out in front of him, the black-and-gold harem pants, the pointed, violently golden shoes, and… where's the shirt?

There's jewellery, too. Mostly a waistband-like thing to hold a… _sword_. Aren't they worried he'll use it on them?

Dean's going to have a field day whenever he lands here, and Cas is sure of that. He sighs and starts undressing, deciding not to argue much, and get this over with.

He slips on the harem pants. They bunch at his ankles but they are… they're pretty comfortable. The jewelled waistband goes on next, and the sword. He puts on the shoes, and looks at himself in the mirror.

He looks _ridiculous_.

He needs to do this.

There is a knock at his door. He sighs. He's been sighing a lot since he got here. "Come in," he says.

Frank enters in his very American outfit, barely holding back a grin. "Ready?"

Cas nods. "Ready. Take me to your Queen."

"You look like one of us, Ameer," says Frank.

"No," Cas replies, "I do not, in fact, look like any of you. I seem to be the only one dressed like this."

"That's because you're seeing only Cindy and I, and we're Americanised. Believe me, this will have a better impression on the Malika."

Cas narrows his eyes at the djinn. "And I should believe you… why?"

Frank shrugs. "'Cause you gotta. Follow me."

Cas rolls his eyes, then follows Frank. They go down twisting staircases and winding corridors, and the walk seems to be never-ending, Cas getting more and more frustrated as his pants swish around his legs, the cool wind from the windows hardening his nipples. Finally, they're standing outside a pair of majestic double doors. Cas takes a deep breath.

"Take me inside," he says.

"In a moment," Frank replies, as Cindy joins him from another corridor. She raises an eyebrow at Cas and winks at him. He feels himself blush.

The doors open to a big room with giant, arching ceilings and chandeliers. The room is rich, decorated in gold and flowers, and a long, red-carpeted aisle leading to two thrones at the far end. Sitting on one throne is the queen.

She's as beautiful as Cas remembers her, dressed in a short blouse and a long, billowing skirt, a scarf going over her head. She's wearing rich jewellery, her face glowing with beauty and royalty. There are djinns seated on either side of the aisle in dewans, dressed more or less like Cas, and once he sees them he feels less embarrassed about how he looks. Still a little uncomfortable, but it doesn't look like a prank, at least.

Meanwhile, Frank and Cindy walk ahead and bow before the queen, both seeming a little too happy and enthusiastic for Cas's liking.

"Malika Aaliyah," says Cindy, "we present Ameer Castiel." She beckons for Cas and he walks halfway up the red carpet, a little self-conscious about all the eyes fixed upon him. He knows they remember what he did, and he knows they also remember he's married to the queen.

However, Aaliyah takes one glance at Cas and smiles. "Hello, Castiel. How are you?"

Cas stands there, feeling small and awkward in his harem pants. "I'm well, Malika," he says, "and yourself?"

"I'm well," she replies. "I did not expect to see you so soon, but I am glad you came. I wanted to speak to you myself. We should get that divorce soon."

"I was brought by your subjects, Malika," says Cas, "and I need to seek div—" He cuts himself off, only just now fully processing what she told him. "I'm sorry, what did you just say?"

She smiles wider. "I need the divorce, too. There is a horrible sexist rule about that Tree and not being able to hand the fruits over to anyone but my husband—hence the deal, as you understand."

He feels his eyes widen. "Really?"

"No," she says, smiling some more if possible. "No. I'm just messing with you. There's no such rule. Truth be told," and now the smile's off, replaced by something more serious and morose, "I was upset, Castiel, that you killed my subjects before coming directly to me for the fruits. The violence was unnecessary. I wanted to punish you by making you feel we had a deal."

She raises her hands. "I must admit, though, it was only to tug at you—like a prank. I did not mean to make use of this deal to encroach upon your autonomy or be physical with you. But I hope I did not make you uncomfortable."

"You did not do any of that, or even hint at it. I was more confused than uncomfortable," Cas admits to her.

"Yes," she replies, "but I would still like to apologise. I behaved like a man."

Cas looks away, knowing she's right. He's had lots of conversations with Sam regarding autonomy—ever since Lucifer—and he knows what she's saying.

"I never took our marriage seriously," she says again, "and I'm guessing, neither did you, especially when I declared while we took our marriage vows that there would be no physical relationship between us."

Cas's heart skips a beat. "That – that was what the vows were? I even told your subjects that you were aware this was a deal—" he spares a second to glare at Frank and Cindy, who look appropriately embarrassed, "—but I did not know this."

She frowns. "I thought, as an angel, you would understand Arabic."

Cas looks away, hand going to the base of his hair. "Yes, yes, sorry. My Arabic is rusty. I should brush up on it."

"Please do," she says. She turns to Frank and Cindy, who are staring at her, eyes wide, and Cas wants to smirk at them and rub it in their faces, that they'd lost, but he doesn't.

"Escort him to his room," she says to them. "Give him his clothes back. I think you know I don't insist on traditional attire here."

"M-Malika," Cindy begins, "he – he betrayed—"

"It was a deal to begin with, Cindy," Aaliyah tells her. "I should have made it clear to you, too, but now you know. Take him back."

"I – I will, I'm sorry, I—"

She's interrupted when the doors behind them open with a bang, a gust of cool air chilling Cas, and a familiar voice making him turn around.

"Not so fast, you sons of bitches! You can't have Cas!"

Dean strides in, Sam at his side, and he's by Cas's side, grabbing him, his calloused hands sending goosebumps through Cas's bare skin as he turns to face Dean.

Dean's eyes are fire and passion and he holds Cas like that for a moment. "I love you," he says. "I'm a fucking idiot, Cas, I love you." His lips meet Cas's before he can reply, the kiss quick and deep and real, his tongue running over the corners of Cas's mouth.

Cas holds the back of Dean's shirt, pulling him into the kiss, and Dean's fingers dig into Cas's flesh as they kiss, desperate and swift—Cas missed this so much, he can't believe what Dean just said. Dean grunts as Cas gets his lower lip in his mouth, their breaths ragged and arms still holding on to each other.

Until Cas stumbles in his harem pants.

They fall together, lips still locked and teeth bumping awkwardly against each other's. Dean groans when he hits the floor, and Cas cannot stop himself from doing the same.

It takes a moment for either of them to realise what happened. Cas hears Sam speak, his voice breaking the silence of the djinn court.

"Oh my God, this is _so_ going on YouTube."

Cas blinks, then realises why Dean is here. "It's okay," he says, not even bothering to get up from the floor, "Dean, I—"

"No," Dean replies, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry it took so fucking long, because I love you too, you asshole. And I – I flew all the way here and searched Damascus and Sammy's getting pissed at me, and…"

"Dean," Cas says again, "listen."

"No, no, you listen," he says, getting back to his feet, and helping Cas up as well. "I've had it with not—these feelings, they're new, and I – I don't know how, but I fucking love you so much, Cas. I want you back, and you can divorce her. We'll have a real-ass engagement and you can wear this ridiculous shit there if you want…"

"Dean, shut up," Cas tells him, and Dean's opened his mouth again to keep speaking, but he stops.

"What?"

"Shut up," Cas repeats. He glances at Sam, who's standing behind Dean, a wide grin on his face. He's probably had enough entertainment to last him a lifetime.

Cas takes a deep breath. "Malika Aaliyah," he says, gesturing to the queen, "is amenable to divorcing me. It was a mistake. I'm all right." He takes a deep breath. "I love you, too."

He watches Dean's face lighten up as he realises what's happening, watches his smile reappear. "Oh thank fuck," Dean says, rushing forward, and when he wraps his arms around Cas, it's one of the best things that Cas has ever felt in all his years of existence. He savours it, cherishes it, and melts into Dean's arms, barely registering all the djinns who are watching them. It's like a perfect ending to some of the inane movies that humans make.

He is glad that right now, his life is as good as a movie and fairy tale. It's all he needs.

When they break apart, Dean takes a look at the queen, who's on her feet now, and turns to Sam. "Dude, she's taller than you," he says. "She's… what are you? P-Pardon me," he adds, bowing a little.

"I'm seven feet tall," Aaliyah replies. "After all, Aaliyah means _tall_ in Arabic. And…" She looks from Cas to Dean and back before continuing, "you may both leave. I am done speaking to Castiel. But I have one condition."

"What is it?" Dean asks her. "We'd, we'd—" He gives her another bow, unsure, "—we'd do anything to help."

"When you deal with my subjects the next time," she says, "you may not use violence. I want you to approach them first. I will not be so kind if this incident repeats itself."

"Yeah," says Dean, "but some of your subjects—" It's Cas's turn to step on Dean's foot to shut him up and he stops, wincing, but gives the queen a painful smile. "Yes. We will approach them first, uh…"

"Malika," Cas supplies for him, and Dean repeats it.

"Right. Malika Aaliyah."

"Then you're free to go. I hope you take some time to look around our place."

"Awesome," Dean says. "We definitely will." He turns to Cas. "Ready to come home?"

"Yes, of course." He takes Dean's hand and exits the room, making their way out of the palace as quickly as they can, back to their home, their life… to each other. There's just one last thing, though.

"Dean," says Cas.

"Yeah?"

"Can we get my clothes before we leave? This is…" Cas stares down at the harem pants. "This is comfortable, but it's also awkward."

Dean smirks. "So long as you keep this stuff you're wearing for after," he says with a wink, and it's a really dirty wink, "I don't care. You look… kinda hot in those. I can't lie."

"Of course," Cas says. "I will keep them for tonight."

"You two are gross," says Sam, and Cas sees that he's grinning, happy for both of them.

"Shut up, Sammy," says Dean, without looking back.

"You shut up. I'm leaving. Get his clothes and meet me outside. I got that kiss on my phone, by the way. And the part where you two fell on your asses."

Dean groans before following Cas to the room where his clothes are. "Fucking bitch."

They hear Sam call out to Dean right after them. "Jerk."

 **~o~**

They're in Lebanon again, getting shawarma before they have to get to the airport, when it seems to hit Sam.

He's high on painkillers. Dean bullied him into taking them once they got Cas (and his clothes) back. That night, they were too exhausted to do much, but Dean snuggled into Cas and they kissed for hours, talking as if they'd been away for months rather than days. They were quiet so Sam could sleep well, and he did.

However in the morning, Sam's toothache had gotten worse, and that's how Dean ended up getting him to take his meds and dragged him into the shop for shawarma, not wanting to leave him alone while he's so prone to nightmares.

They're talking about this and that, Sam adding his own drug-induced thoughts in, when it happens. When halfway through a bite of his shawarma, Sam bursts into tears.

Dean and Cas both get up from their seats. "Shit," says Dean, taking the shawarma from his brother's hand, "Sammy, what happened?"

Sam sniffs, tears streaming down his cheeks, snot bubbling out of his nose, and it's kinda disgusting. Dean rubs his back. "Pain that bad? It's okay, man. We're getting home soon." Sam's pretty tough when it comes to pain so maybe this is the meds, but Dean's kinda alarmed now.

Sam shakes his head. "Aa—" he sniffles, "Aaliyah."

"Did she say something? Do something? I'll drive right back to Aleppo and—"

"She's… she's t-taller than I am… I—"

Dean has to do a double take. "What?"

"She's so _tall_ ," Sam says, more tears falling over, and Dean stops rubbing his back, staring at him. Dude's really high. And hurt, because Dean knows that this is just the drugs talking, and all this is not just about the queen.

They need to take care of Ketch, and they will.

He sighs, deciding to console Sam for whatever grief he feels right now. "Sam, sometimes people can be taller than you. It happens, right? It's – it's—" He doesn't know what to say, so he glances at Cas, and does something he hasn't done since Sam was a small kid. He bends over and presses a kiss to Sam's head.

"It's all right," he says. "We're fine. Right?"

"No!" Sam shakes his head vigorously, and Dean puts an arm around him. He reaches another hand to Cas, who takes it and squeezes it. Then Dean takes out his phone to get footage of this moment because he's never going to let Sam forget about this. Ah, sweet, sweet vengeance.

All that aside, they're good for now. They might have a bit of material on each other for blackmail, but they're good, and that's all that matters. They'll deal with the rest later. Once Dean has Cas cornered in those harem pants in the bunker and shows him exactly how he feels about those, they will deal with the rest, too.

For now, it's just them, the three of them, and so long as they're here for each other, anything else is a piece of cake.

 **The End**

* * *

 **Thank you so much for reading! If you liked the story, please let me know with a comment, or even kudos!**

 **Art for this fic can be found linked at the beginning of the story Do let the amazing Usarechan know how awesome this is (PS: Cas is wearing those harem pants)! We've both worked hard on this project.**

 **I started residency in June and edited this fic through some night shifts and in the middle of making presentations. This fic really helped my mood, because it was so fun to write, and I hope reading it was just as fun. Thank you for giving me your time.**

 **Pooja**


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